Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!convex!convex!arco!news.utdallas.edu!corpgate!bcarh8ac.bnr.ca!bcarh189.bnr.ca!nott!cunews!freenet.carleton.ca!FreeNet.Carleton.CA!ar153 From: ar153@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Bonnie Holmyard) Subject: USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 - The story begins Message-ID: Sender: news@freenet.carleton.ca (Usenet News Admin) Organization: The National Capital FreeNet, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada Date: Thu, 6 Oct 1994 14:25:25 GMT Lines: 601 Copyrighted 1992 by the authors. WE'VE GOT TO MEET STOPPING LIKE THIS by Walter S. George Commodore and Bonnie Holmyard Lieutenant USS Excalibur NCC 2004 FRONTIERS OF ANY TYPE, PHYSICAL OR MENTAL, ARE BUT A CHALLENGE TO OUR BREED. NOTHING CAN STOP THE QUESTING OF MEN - NOT EVEN MAN. IF WE WILL IT, NOT ONLY THE WONDERS OF SPACE BUT the VERY stars are ours. BOOK ONE What Do You Get When You Cross a Bridge With a Starship? ***** Q were bored. Usually they could find even the most minuscule diversion to fill the empty timespans of an eternal existence. Today, however, Q had failed to find anything remotely amusing. This had been chronic for Q ever since their demeaning but brief sojourn as a mere, mundane Human among Picard and his crew. Though Q had restored Q's powers bringing the whole dismal escapade to a merciful conclusion, somehow the taint of their transient mortal travail lingered within their awareness. Though they wouldn't admit it to themselves, Q envied the dynamic, vibrant existence of Humans like Picard. Perhaps exposure to Humans made one susceptible to their chaotic, fragile capers much as one succumbed to a wasting and terminal contagion. In their boredom, Q stretched to ease the ache of a fatigued existence. That stretch spanned centuries and inadvertently catalyzed an aberration in the symbiotic continuums of Where and When. Humans had a word for such unintentional events. Q found it most appropriate and permitted it to be expressed in their awareness. "Oops!" Q felt the familiar tickle of glee void of even a shred of regret at the thought of some unsuspecting being encountering their impromptu anomaly. They probed the space at both ends of the temporal tempest. Indeed, there were two vessels of that Human agency known as Starfleet within convenient distance to it. And, what have we here, or more exactly who? SHE was on board one of those very vessels. It was the chance of a lifetime, even that of an immortal entity. SHE could now be taken to task for prior slights to Q and made to pay in full. A plan precipitated in Q's consciousness in an instant, and in the next instant Q was laughing. HE was on the other vessel! This was just too good to be true! Two chances of a lifetime! "Make it so," Q resolved, ever conscious of his play on words. This should prove most amusing. If Q were aware of what Q had in mind, they would probably heave a collective sigh of endurance and hope that next time Q would exercise more restraint. Q didn't care. This, possibly, could turn out to be quite, actually, fun. ***** USS EXCEL NCC 1722 - STARDATE 3/6703.12 "What do you mean it's moved again?" queried Captain Gary Moudy. He had learned long ago that though patience was a virtue, impatience was a necessity of life. "Distress call sources don't relocate if the senders want to be rescued! It's already moved twice since we first tracked it. Recheck your readings and report again, Lieutenant." "Aye, sir," Lieutenant Bonnie Holmyard replied evenly from the starship's conn panel. She adamantly refused to let the nervousness she was feeling seep into her tone. The waves of frustration emanating from Captain Moudy weren't helping her control. She had spent much valuable time and effort obtaining a post on a Galaxy class vessel. True, USS Excel wasn't the notorious Enterprise, but it would become just as noteworthy if she had anything to do with it. Just now, however, she wasn't having much success at portraying competence. The anomalous distress call, whose source WAS moving even as she watched, seemed to be playing her for a fool. "Readings confirmed, Captain," she related what her eyes told her, even though she knew Moudy didn't want to hear it any more than she wanted to say it. "The source of the distress call has moved eight parsecs beyond its last reported position." "Plot an intercept course, Lieutenant," Moudy said. "Prepare to increase speed to warp factor six. We'll try to catch it before it moves again. Mister Kemp, are you sure it IS a distress call we're trying to respond to?" Excel's tall hulk of a security chief stabbed at a few controls on his security board. His voice was soft but his demeanor deadly serious on matters of ship's safety. "Aye, Captain. It's a text message only that reads, 'Vessel in distress. Life support gone. Twenty already dead. Thirty survivors. Any vessel please respond'." "'Any vessel'," Commander Keith Foye repeated. As executive officer he was always evaluating and analyzing the vessel's and crews' operations. Moudy placed the highest trust in him. "That sort of message would invite a response from unwelcome species like the Romulans, the Ferengi, the Cardassians or even the Pakleds." "I don't sense any of those species in the area," Counselor Linda Kukola announced. She frowned, closed her eyes and focused silently for a moment. "In fact I don't sense the emanations of any specific beings. Only a general feeling of desperation, resignation and controlled panic." Holmyard shivered as those self-same emotions rippled through her sensitivities as well. Sometimes she envied Kukola for being able to openly display her Betazoid talents while Holmyard had to conceal hers, but only sometimes. "Course laid in, Captain." "Engage," Moudy said with a near subconscious wave of his hand. "Commander Satok, are we able to tell what sort of vessel is sending this distress call?" "Nothing registers on long range sensors, Captain," came the brisk response. Few Vulcans desired a seat on the bridge of a starship, preferring the more sedate and academic science positions. Satok was considered by his peers as almost a throwback to the days before Surak and the Great Enlightening. He prided himself on his ability to suppress those arcane Vulcan instincts with the reason of logic and power of his mind. "It is not logical to assume they are cloaked as they do not have sufficient power for life support. It is possible the vessel is too small to register at this distance or its hull composition could be invisible to our sensors." Kukola leaned to her right and placed a hand on Moudy's shoulder. "I sense your impatience, Captain. Let the universe unfold as it should." "I'd sooner rip a hole in the universe than let it unfold by itself," Moudy said. He suppressed the urge to shiver at Kukola's touch. Could she sense how her barest stroke turned his insides to emotional jelly? "But, one of my academy instructor's favorite proverbs was, 'A short cut is the longest distance between two points'." The first officer caught the Vulcan's raised eyebrow. "I'll say it for you, Satok, 'That is an illogical statement, Captain'. But have you ever tried to take a shortcut in downtown New Washington D.C.?" "Okay," Moudy said with a sigh. "We'll try to chase this thing to this next location one last time. If it's not there we'll log the effort unfeasible and continue on to our next mission." Moudy chewed on his lower lip, uncomfortable with the whole puzzle and uneasy at the potential threat his gut told them Excel was rushing headlong to confront. ***** USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 - STARDATE 2/8910.07 Excalibur rapidly, but wearily, was putting more distance between her crew and the tribulations of the Priority Red One mission they had just concluded. The rapidity was due to the virtues of her transwarp drive, propelling the ship closer to the nearest starbase, drydock and rest. "The weariness is due more to the crew's condition than the ship's, Commodore, with all due respect." "Eavesdropping again, Number One?" Commodore Walter S. George asked. Sitting in the center seat, he often availed himself of the vista of stars rushing past on the forward viewscreen to reflect. "Or is it you just have nothing better to do than roam around snooping in my private thoughts?" "It's familiar territory to me by now, sir," Commander Daniel Blasberg returned. "I just check in there every once in a while to make sure you don't get lost." Blasberg was by no means or measure telepathic. He merely possessed the unnerving knack of reading Excalibur's commanding officer like a book and then voicing aloud the moods and thoughts he'd deciphered with uncanny accuracy. "I know the way in and out of my own mind, thank you," George said without taking offense. He was very well accustomed to Blasberg's interception of his private musings. "You are right, though. We 'are' weary after facing Organians, Klingons, renegades and Kinshaya. I'm only less than a week out of sick bay myself." He glanced around the bridge at the crew busy at operating a starship. "And I am tired of losing members of my crew." "Only two this time, sir," Blasberg said. "Two too many, Dan," George said, his own weariness weighting his voice. "That's too high a price to pay no matter how vital the mission." "This mission couldn't have been all that vital," Blasberg said, folding his arms across his chest. "We may have seen eye to eye with a few Klingons for a short while, but the rest of them are still breathing threats like, 'No peace while Kirk lives'." "The Genesis Controversy is still a touchy subject even after the Nimbus III Crisis," George said. "People have long memories, short fuses and little tolerance after issues like that." "It's almost like we wasted our time not to mention the lives of two crewmen," Blasberg added, convinced that it was so. "Amen to that, Daniel." The vote of agreement came from the direction of the turbolift. Excalibur's chief engineer, Commander Timothy Riley stepped down into the bridge's lower elevation and joined the pair there. "Most of us had a pound of flesh removed on this last little sortie. I feel like I've had fifty pounds ripped away myself. Even poor old Excalibur has a war wound or two to show for her efforts." "I assume you came here to do more than spread gloom and doom, Tim," George said, not unkindly. He knew Riley's wounds were emotional ones still raw from the loss of the woman he loved dearer than life. "Do you have a status report on our repair efforts?" "As a matter of fact I have," Riley said, pushing aside too fresh heartaches. "I'm afraid you'll have to make do here on the auxiliary bridge a while longer. We've managed to clear away most of the wreckage on the main bridge but we'll either need extended drydock time at a starbase or an entirely new bridge module replacement. The Kinshaya were quite thorough in demolishing the bridge." "They were just making themselves at home," Blasberg said, "that is, if home to them is a war zone." "They were trapped, Daniel," Riley said. "We'd have done the same thing to their bridge were we in their place." "Commodore, I'm picking up a distress call," Keilah, the Deltan communications officer reported. "Text message only." All eyes turned towards the commodore at the announcement. Hopes had been high that Excalibur could make it to the nearest starbase without diversion. When they had assumed PRO mission status they had been released from obligation to all Starfleet regulations save the Prime Directive. Now, after crossing from Klingon into Federation space, they were once again under the auspices and review of Starfleet. It had been academic up to this point. With Keilah's announcement of a distress call received, the responsibilities of Starfleet settled on their collective, battle weary shoulders almost as a tangible weight. "Read the message aloud please, Mister Keilah," George said, facing her directly and all too aware of the bridge crew's scrutiny. Keilah withheld a sigh and held up the PADD containing the text of the distress call. She read slowly but clearly. "'Vessel in distress. Life support gone. Twenty already dead. Thirty survivors. Any vessel please respond'." "Mister Makofsky, any vessels registering on long range sensors besides ours?" George asked the science officer. Makofsky consulted his panel's blinking indicators. "There are no other vessels registering within range, Commodore." "Great!" Blasberg exclaimed. "Once again we're the only ship in the quadrant." "Mister Keilah, Mister Thornburg, please coordinate to locate the distress call's source," George requested. Sometimes the mantle of Starfleet could be a veritable straight-jacket. Thornburg, the navigator, swivelled his seat to face the Commodore. "We've pinpointed the coordinates of the distress call's source, sir. Interception course plotted and on the board." "Lay in the course, Mister Kyhl," George said. "Ahead transwarp factor six." Kyhl's 'Aye, sir,' was spoken tightly and barely audibly. He was not alone in his disappointment at their interrupted journey to rest and relaxation. "'Any vessel please respond'," Gelf, the Tellarite security chief repeated. "I don't like it. It sounds suspicious." "It's your job to be suspicious, Commander," George remarked. "Keep up the good work, but we are still obligated to investigate. The distress may be all too real." "I can understand that," Blasberg voiced the thoughts he guessed George had not chosen to vocalize. "I'm pretty distressed myself as of a few minutes ago." ***** USS EXCEL NCC 1722 - STARDATE 3/6703.12 "Incoming message, Captain," Kemp called out, breaking the tense silence on the bridge as Excel closed in on the source of the distress call. "If it's another distress call they're out of luck," Moudy said. "We've got one more than we can handle right now." "It's on a priority channel," Kemp informed him. "Code red and scrambled from Starfleet, Admiral Hansen." Moudy looked to his left, then his right gauging the reactions of Kukola and Foye respectively. "On screen, Mister Kemp." The words were automatic. Now what? he thought and forced a smile. "This is Captain Moudy commanding USS Excel. What can we do for you, Admiral?" "Greetings, Captain," Hansen responded from the forward viewscreen. "You can drop whatever you're doing and set course for Wolf Three Five Nine. And don't spare the dilithium getting here." "We're responding to a distress call right now," Moudy said. "But, as soon as we're through..." "...won't be soon enough, I'm afraid," Hansen cut him off. "Whatever the problem is there, it can in no way match the urgency of your prompt arrival here." "What is the nature of your emergency, Admiral?" Foye asked. "The Borg," Hansen answered and the temperature on the bridge chilled to the kelvin regions. "Enterprise is engaging them even as we speak, holding them off while we amass as many starships as possible to head those monsters off here at Wolf Three Five Nine." "The Borg are everyone's emergency, that's a certainty," Moudy confirmed. "We'll change course and be there as soon as we can, Admiral." "I pray you're in time, Captain, because we haven't got a prayer if there aren't enough of us to stop the Borg. They're headed for Sector Zero Zero One and we'll be the only obstacle in their path that has a chance of stopping them." He paused, long and dramatically. Then, simply, "Hansen out." "Change course for Wolf Three Five Nine, Lieutenant Holmyard," Moudy said with a calmness unmatched to the knotted anticipation just the thought of a Borg encounter had caused within. "Aye, sir," Holmyard responded automatically. She proceeded to implement the course change with half of her attention while the other half fought to shield her sensitivities against the onslaught of emotions mention of the Borg had evoked from the rest of the bridge crew. How did Kukola stand it?! "Course laid in, Captain." Moudy breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly. "Ahead on that course, warp factor nine... engage." ***** How rude! Just like that they had given up on Q's distress call. The other ship was still closing in on its side of the Q-warp (as Q liked to call it), but the plan would simply not be any fun without the ship that was even now veering away from Q's party invitation. If Q allowed that ship to evade their grasp then they could not exact from HER payment to them for HER impertinence and affronts. The opportunity for just recompense was too prime to let pass. Q smiled balefully. Not to worry. It was a simple matter of a twisting of Where and the fleeing quarry was again headed for the Q-warp. Phase One of Q's plan was about to begin. ***** TO BE CONTINUED.. . TSAO! -- "I lift my glass to the Awful Truth, which you can't reveal to the Ears of Youth, except to say it isn't worth a dime." Leonard Cohen ar153@Freenet.carleton.ca (Bonnie Q Holmyard) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!convex!convex!arco!news.utdallas.edu!corpgate!bcarh8ac.bnr.ca!bcarh189.bnr.ca!nott!cunews!freenet.carleton.ca!FreeNet.Carleton.CA!ar153 From: ar153@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Bonnie Holmyard) Subject: USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 - Part II Message-ID: Sender: news@freenet.carleton.ca (Usenet News Admin) Organization: The National Capital FreeNet, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada Date: Thu, 6 Oct 1994 14:28:21 GMT Lines: 645 Continuing is... Copyrighted 1992 by George & Holmyard WE'VE GOT TO MEET STOPPING LIKE THIS PART II RECAPPING: How rude! Just like that they had given up on Q's distress call. The other ship was still closing in on its side of the Q-warp (as Q liked to call it), but the plan would simply not be any fun without the ship that was even now veering away from Q's party invitation. If Q allowed that ship to evade their grasp then they could not exact from HER payment to them for HER impertinence and affronts. The opportunity for just recompense was too prime to let pass. Q smiled balefully. Not to worry. It was a simple matter of a twisting of Where and the fleeing quarry was again headed for the Q-warp. Phase One of Q's plan was about to begin. ***** USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 - STARDATE 2/8910.07 Makofsky coaxed one last set of confirming readings from his equipment before turning to face the center seat and the man occupying it. "We have a problem, Commodore." "Only 'a problem'?" George asked. "That'll be a nice change of pace. Report please, Commander." "The source of the distress call is moving," Makofsky answered. "'Moving'," Blasberg said. "How can they muster the power to move when even their life support is gone?" "That's the problem," Makofsky replied. "They're probably adrift and being drawn in to the spatial anomaly I've been monitoring for the past ten minutes." "Do we have a visual fix on it?" George asked. "Aye, sir," Makofsky said. "I saw it almost at the same time the sensors registered it." "Like it just appeared out of nowhere," Riley said. "On screen," George said and the scene on the main viewer shifted and distorted until it refocused on an ebon ugliness scarring the view of stars framing it. "Not a pretty sight. And you say the source of the distress call is being pulled into that?" "Aye, sir," Makofsky affirmed, "and it's gaining velocity the nearer it gets. If we don't do something soon there may be nothing we can do at all." "Mister Kyhl, maximum speed," George said. "Mister Riley, will we be able to pull ourselves out of the grasp of whatever that is?" Riley stepped over to the science station and peered at Makofsky's discovery on the screens. "It'll be a strain but unless we cross its actual event horizon Excalibur can handle it." George nodded once, then again, assimilating the information at hand. "Makofsky, I want an analysis on that anomaly before we even have to strain to escape it. Is it energy? Is it gaseous? Where did it come from? Etcetera... Mister Gelf, prepare a tractor beam to snare our would be rescuees. I have a feeling this is going to be close." "I have a feeling your feeling is right on target, Commodore," Blasberg said. "It just isn't natural for us to do anything but the hard way." "Downhill is a difficult direction to find in space, Dan," George said. "Besides, my autobiography would be dull reading if I just coasted into..." "Commodore! Look out! It's..." To Makofsky's credit, those four words were expressed as a prelude to his unfinished warning before the anomaly abruptly reached out across parsecs of space and snatched Excalibur like a colossal talon snaring its prey. Reality went spinning out of control. ***** USS EXCEL NCC 1722 - STARDATE 3/6703.12 The computer reacted to the threat quicker than Kemp could with its characteristic blaring klaxon and flashing red lights. However, Kemp's words defined it more meaningfully. "Collision alert, Captain!" "From which vector?" Moudy asked, out of his seat, up the circular ramp and at Kemp's side with a minimum of steps. He frowned at the readings on the security panel. Space all around was absolutely empty. "Is this some kind of joke, Lieutenant?" he demanded. Kemp punched the alarm clear pad in aggravation and embarrassment. "The alarm refuses to clear, Captain. The computer insists we're about to run into something dead ahead." "There is a spatial rip opening before us, Captain," Satok reported with Vulcan coolness. "Evasive action, Lieutenant Holmyard," Moudy urged as he darted back down into the command well and resumed the center seat. Holmyard wrestled with the controls before her, dismayed that so many variations of evasion were all ineffective. "We can't shake it, Captain!" she shouted. "We're being dragged off course and straight towards..." "Captain! Sensors are picking up an Excelsior class starship on a collision course with Excel!" Kemp's cry overrode Holmyard's. "It's already within the rip! We'll collide in forty-five seconds!" "Scorch it!" Moudy exclaimed. "Not even enough time to separate the saucer or launch a log buoy. All decks brace for impact!" "Is this going to hurt us more than them or vice versa?" Foye asked, figuring it was better to die smiling than screaming. With breath-stealing rapidity, the rip swallowed Excel whole, crew and all. And before their next heartbeat, a Starfleet Excelsior class vessel loomed large, blotting out all other viewing just as it surely was about to snuff out their lives in one cataclysmic paroxysm. ***** Q-WARP "I'd sooner rip a hole in the universe... sooner rip a hole in the universe... rip a hole in the universe... a hole in the universe..." Moudy's words dogged his ascent out of the abyss his consciousness had plummeted in to. Tattered memories of the moments before the collision floated on the surface of his bruised awareness. They made him cautious about opening his eyes, dreading the certain ruins of his beautiful Excel, not to mention her crew, that would meet his gaze. Get it over with, man, so you can begin at least trying to minimize the damage. Moudy opened his eyes. He shut them and opened them again just to ensure himself his brain registered the movement of his eyelids with the same results. "Either I'm blind as a bat or my eyes have been knocked out of their sockets." "Could be worse, could be both." An answer hadn't been expected since dead men give none. Yet, it WAS a different voice responding. "Same difference. Did anyone get the number of that rollercoaster that just ran over me, backed up, and ran over me again?" Now, Moudy wasn't sure his ears were working right. He couldn't place a face to the voice from the dark. It wasn't Foye's, Kukola's, Kemp's, Satok's or Holmyard's. And if it wasn't any of theirs or his then whose was it? "Computer, lights." No response. "The lights must be out, even the emergency ones." "I hate it when this happens. Let me see if I can find the manual override." Even more puzzling, why did the voice seem to originate overhead instead of deck level? "It may not work. It seems as if there's no power." "Minor details. I can only solve one dilemma at a time and... hey! I've found someone! The hands are warm so they're still alive. Yep, there's a pulse. Let's see, from the feel of the shoulder rank, it's the commodore." Something WAS definitely amiss. Shoulder rank?! And there was no one on Excel higher than the rank of captain, being himself. "Listen, friend either I bumped my head and thereby am still dazed or you're the one who's confused. More to the point, I don't even recognize your voice. Who are you anyway?" "I must be confused," the voice from above answered. "I can't seem to find the engineering station." "Who are you talking to, Daniel?" It was another voice, identification unknown. And who was Daniel?" "Tim, welcome back to the world of the living," the first mystery voice responded. "I'm glad you're conscious because the lights are out, obviously, and I can't seem to locate the manual override." "Just a minute, you two," Moudy called out into the darkness. "You are not to touch anything until I find out exactly who you are." "That doesn't sound like the commodore, Daniel," voice number two said. "So, who does he think he is? You're number one around here. By the way, is the commodore all right?" "Yes, he is," a third voice said, "though I seem to have gone blind. What's wrong with the lights?" "They're not working," Foye's voice said. Finally! Someone recognizable in the growing chaos of voices, "which is understandable considering the fact we just collided with another vessel. Can someone find the manual override?" "We're trying," Moudy answered. "You should also be aware, Number One, that we have unidentified intruders on the bridge." "Well, I know Tim and the commodore," voice number one said, "but now that you mention it, I don't have the froggiest idea who you other two are. Where is Gelf when we need him?" "Right here, Commander." It sounded like a Tellarite's gravely voice. "What happened?" "That is difficult to ascertain," Satok's voice spoke up, "but if I am not suffering from deficient or damaged memory we are attempting to recover from collision with an Excelsior class vessel." The exchange between the 'knowns' and the 'unknowns' escalated into a virtual babel. The darkness was only making the circum- stances more chaotic. "At ease!" voice number three called out. Silence followed the command. "Let's sort out some of the confusion by taking roll." "And I'll start since I'm in command here," Moudy said. "I'm Captain Gary Moudy and this is my bridge on my starship." "Hold on," voice number one said. "There's only one commander on this ship and that's Commodore George. I'm Commander Blasberg, his number one. So, I should know." "Never heard of him," Foye's voice said, "nor you for that matter. I'm Captain Moudy's number one, Commander Keith Foye." "Science officer James Makofsky, here also." "Counselor Linda Kukola..." "Lieutenant Commander Keilah, communications..." "Commander Gelf, security chief..." "No way! I'm Excel's only security chief. I'm Lieutenant Kemp." "Excel?! This is Excalibur and I'm the chief engineer, Commander Riley." "It is logical to deduce, given the absence of illumination, that somehow bridge crews from different starships are present. I am Lieutenant Commander Satok, bridge ops and science officer." "That sounds reasonable, Mister Satok," Moudy said. His mind reeled as he pieced together the circumstances. Though hard to believe, the Commodore George WAS present even though he'd died some five years ago. There had been a recent Starfleet bulletin received about posthumously clearing some black mark on George's record, though. And Blasberg...! The recently retired Commander Starfleet was a Blasberg. Was it possible...? Suddenly things began to make sense, although Moudy wasn't sure 'sense' was the right word. "We must have been drawn into some sort of timewarp and then collided with that other ship." The thought was out of his mouth before he could stop it. "Excalibur must be that other ship," George said. "I'm still missing two personnel, by the way, Kyhl and Thornburg." "And I'm missing one," Moudy said. "Where is Lieutenant Holmyard?" ***** Holmyard had clamped her eyes shut tighter than an Aldebaran shellmouth. When she finally... astoundingly... opened them again she could scarcely believe the image they were relaying to her brain via her optic nerves. Q! A smile immediately wrapped itself around Q's lips. No, not a smile, a smirk. "Bonnie, Bonnie, Bonnie," he taunted. Solicitously, he levitated her from the floor, righted her and planted her lightly on her feet. His hand reached to stroke her cheek. Instinctively, Holmyard drew back. To think she had once longed for his touch, craved the sound of his voice. "What have you done?" she demanded. "I?" he questioned, now the picture of innocence. He's just as handsome as ever, a part of Holmyard thought, while another part wondered why she'd even considered he'd change such a perfect image, but the greater part ostracized its lesser parts for for following such a path of thought. This is Q! it shouted at her. She glared at him/it/they/whatever! "Such thoughts, Bonnie," Q said, the disapproval falling from his lips as casually as his hand fell from her face. Then it was abruptly sweeping the air around them. "Welcome to my Q-warp," he said proudly, like a child revealing his first fingerpainting. Then he laughed, the sound bringing to Holmyard's mind memories of ecstatically romantic evenings, the two of them bathed only in moonlight, while simultaneously she felt the shame she'd experienced at the Federation Council's censure. Pride won the battle over exoticism. She tore her eyes from his hypnotic gaze. Disorientation instantly attacked her senses. Around her were Excel's bridge, but overlapping that image was the phantom of another. Was she hallucinating, suffering from some sort of distorted double-vision? There was another bridge suspended above Excel's, an Excelsior class bridge, dangling from nothing like a crystal chandelier. Its consoles clung to the 'ceiling' like stalactites in a cavern above corresponding stalagmites, Excel's consoles. And scattered throughout the colliding collage were Excel's crew and, presumably, those of the other vessel's... unconscious???... insensate???... dead?!?!... What HAD Q done? Her eyes flew back to the entity who had provoked such disarray. "What have you done?" she gasped, some part of her acknowledging that she had spoken the words aloud, while the greater part realized she still thought of Q as 'he'. Would she ever learn? "Bonnie," Q murmured again, in a tone that ALMOST captured disappointment... despondency... disillusionment. "You're trying too hard, Q," Holmyard said, at once trying to stabilize her erratic reactions to Q's overpowering presence and to the surrounding bedlam. Somehow she succeeded. "Human emotions do not become you. I thought you'd learned that lesson, at the very least." "You wound me, Bonnie," Q said, but his words did not conceal the unbounded and mischievous glee that emanated from his person and washed in waves against Holmyard's talent. Despite his callousness, Q did experience emotions. This, Holmyard had learned the hard way, and that hard-learned lesson now screamed at her. Q constantly analyzed any situation encountered with a speed and accuracy that was as unnatural as he was. He did so as a matter of survival and was quite gifted at concealing the torrent of emotions such analysis, sometimes, evoked. He could, just as easily, explode with those same emotions. Such an explosion Holmyard had witnessed and it had shattered her life as she then knew it. She could not let that happen again. He was watching her, no, analyzing her even now. It was a frightening notion that spawned and even more terrifying thought. Q knew her all too well, but then again, she knew him too. Intuitively, she marshalled her abilities: her inherited Betazoid empathy, her inbred Human aptitudes, plus her Vulcan iconoclasts. With the words, 'a matter of survival' ringing in her mind, she turned to combat the overwhelming charisma that confronted her. "Are you going to tell me what kind of farce you are playing, Q, or do you intend to keep me in the dark?" she challenged fearlessly. "If it's the latter, I refuse to interact with you." Q did not so much as raise an eyebrow. "I'm astounded, Bonnie! Where's your pluck, your mettle, the pugnacity I know you possess? Are you truly willing to leave, nay JOIN your comrades in the dark of my perpetual Q-warp? I could be lenient and spare you that you know." His dark eyes bore into hers. Holmyard fixed her eyes on her captain instead, comatose on the 'ceiling' as if a command ruling had called for one and all to take an afternoon siesta. The equally vulnerable images of Foye, Kukola and the unknown others only added probity to the picture. It was the overlapping phantom of that other bridge, ironically, that forced a sense of reality, if it could be called reality, sharply into focus. She swirled to face Q. "What do you want of me?" "Merely finding you here is more than I could have hoped for," Q began, but once started there was no stopping him. "I cannot honestly say I have thought of you often, Bonnie, or even occasionally. As a matter of fact I completely wiped all thoughts of you from my collective memory. That was a trial, unlike any I have ever faced before, and one I do not EVER want to experience again. So... I will not." He shrugged his shoulders as if completely dismissing the matter. His next words, however, belied that gesture. "But now that you have again happened into my awareness, you must be made to pay for your prior, blatant disregard." "Blatant disregard! Now, see here, Q...!" "I SHALL HEAR NO MORE FROM YOU!" Suddenly, Holmyard could not speak. Instinctively, she fought the adversity. Q smiled, and she immediately halted her struggles, unwilling to cater to his purile need for amusement. Q frowned. "You WILL bow to my wishes, Bonnie, and then, if you amuse me sufficiently, I MAY be persuaded to release your beloved comrades, although why you care so much for them is beyond even my omniscience." He cast a disdainful eye on the scattered bodies of her comrades. Then he arrested her gaze once more. "I shall return, Bonnie." Q began to fade, the illumination failing with his disappearance. "Yes, I shall return once I've decided upon a fitting punishment. Until then remember, I alone hold the fate of this nonessential rabble in my hands. Don't, for one minute, entertain any other possibility." ***** TO BE CONTINUED... TSAO! -- "I lift my glass to the Awful Truth, which you can't reveal to the Ears of Youth, except to say it isn't worth a dime." Leonard Cohen ar153@Freenet.carleton.ca (Bonnie Q Holmyard) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!convex!convex!arco!news.utdallas.edu!corpgate!bcarh8ac.bnr.ca!bcarh189.bnr.ca!nott!cunews!freenet.carleton.ca!FreeNet.Carleton.CA!ar153 From: ar153@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Bonnie Holmyard) Subject: USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 - Part III Message-ID: Sender: news@freenet.carleton.ca (Usenet News Admin) Organization: The National Capital FreeNet, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada Date: Thu, 6 Oct 1994 14:31:25 GMT Lines: 888 Continuing is... Copyrighted 1992 by George & Holmyard WE'VE GOT TO MEET STOPPING LIKE THIS PART III RECAPPING: Q frowned. "You WILL bow to my wishes, Bonnie, and then, if you amuse me sufficiently, I MAY be persuaded to release your beloved comrades, although why you care so much for them is beyond even my omniscience." He cast a disdainful eye on the scattered bodies of her comrades. Then he arrested her gaze once more. "I shall return, Bonnie." Q began to fade, the illumination failing with his disappearance. "Yes, I shall return once I've decided upon a fitting punishment. Until then remember, I alone hold the fate of this nonessential rabble in my hands. Don't, for one minute, entertain any other possibility." ***** L I G H T ! Brighter than white. It flared abruptly in the shroud of darkness, overloading the sight of everyone present. The dancing color motes obscured the vision of all and accented the disorientation in the aftermath of the collision of their two starships. There were more than a few cries of alarm and anguish, save one. "Ask a silly question," Blasberg said above the clamor, segueing Moudy's query after Holmyard's whereabouts, "get a silly answer." "I'm not sure which is the lesser of two evils," Foye put in, "being blinded by darkness or dazzled by light." "Everyone give yourselves a moment to recover," George said. "Look at the bright side, uh... figuratively speaking. The fact that our eyes are functioning means we can't be all that badly hurt." Holmyard was reeling from her own bout with disorientation. Only a moment before she had been standing on Excel's bridge with Excalibur's suspended above her. Now, she was on Excalibur's bridge. The flash of light - hallmark of Q's power - had heralded her return. It was disturbing to see people standing on the ceiling. Holmyard realized, from the empathic impressions she was receiving from the upside-down people, they were just as unnerved at a reciprocal point of view. She knew Q to be a master of time and space but this was the most graphic display of his mastery she had ever seen. Moudy knuckled his eyes, wiping away the tears that had instinctively streamed to wash away the sting of the eruption of light. Gradually, he could see familiar forms blurring into shape amidst the purple afterimages still imprinted on his tortured retinas. "Commodore George is right, that is if that's really who you are. I'll know for sure once I can get a good look at you." "I'm certain I've never met a Captain Gary Moudy," George said, "so how can you possibly recognize me?" "I've seen pictures of you, sir," Moudy said, "in Starfleet archives." What he didn't say was that he was beginning to recall where he and the commodore had actually met. It had been some time before, but due, currently, to the timewarp that had snared them both, it hadn't happened in George's lifetime yet. Temporal paradox and the Prime Directive would both be challenged if George received that certain bit of foreknowledge. "I'll have to take your word for that, Captain," George said. "In the meantime, we have more pressing prob... what the...?" His vision had recovered sufficiently for him to clearly make out the situation. He was standing on a solid enough deck, but the surrounding architecture was, nearly totally unfamiliar. A pair of control panels were the first things George could see. The viewscreen before them was dark. He turned and saw four seats at the base of a graceful arc of a raised deck. The center one had armrests on the side and though it was far removed from any he knew of, it was obviously the command chair of a starship. Behind and elevated above this command well, George could see a bank of panels, dark as the forward viewscreen had been. There was no mistaking the function of this room. It was the bridge of a starship and he had seen its like only once before... in the future. He received an additional astounding when he looked up. Moudy was surveying his surroundings with as much incredulity. This bridge was decades behind his own in technology. He had seen archival holograms of it, had studied it at the Academy in the Starship Development course. He recognized the distinct touch of its designer... a certain Commodore Walter S. George. The very person standing in front of... no, behind... no, beside... no... Down being an entirely illogical direction to look, Moudy looked up. He met the gaze of a Starfleet commodore in the old-fashioned red tunic. Sure enough, there was the shoulder rank Blasberg had mentioned. "I don't think we're in Kansas, anymore," Riley said as he completed his own absorption of his surroundings. "This is the most unlikely fusing I've ever seen. I can't even begin to explain how this is possible." "I can," Holmyard spoke to the group for the first time. "We're at the mercy of Q." "At ease, Lieutenant!" Moudy said sternly. "'Q'?" Makofsky repeated. "Is that someone's initial or their full name?" "I can't answer that question," Moudy said, then to warn the rest of his crew, "none of us can. Lieutenant Holmyard, may I have a word with you privately?" "I will confer with my people as well," George said. "Between us all maybe we can sort this whole mess out." ***** Holmyard joined Moudy standing away from the group huddled on the ceiling on Excel's bridge. "I know what you're going to ask, Captain." "Let me ask it anyway, Lieutenant," Moudy said calmly. "What has Q got to do with all of this?" The rest of Excel's bridge crew also clustered around. Holmyard flinched from the scrutiny but was relieved she would only have to explain once. "No one can explain why Q does what he... they do." "We have obviously attracted their interest," Satok said, "a dubious honor we now share with the crew of USS Enterprise." Holmyard took a moment to relish the controlled emotions she sensed from Satok. Vulcans were always a relief to her battered talent. "I must tell you, sir, it's me Q wants." "You?!" Foye exclaimed. "What's so special about you, Lieutenant?" "Q and I have encountered one another before," Holmyard replied. "I... disappointed him... them and they haven't forgotten nor forgiven me for it. I'm to be punished now and, unfortunately, the rest of you are caught in the crossfire." "How do you know this?" Kukola asked. She had always found Holmyard an empathic puzzle. The young woman was close with her feelings and shielded her thoughts like an adept. "Just a moment ago, while you were all unconscious, I saw Q themselves," Holmyard said. "They were quite eager to flaunt their responsibility for all this. I might be able to persuade them to fix it all, but only if I can amuse them sufficiently." "You will do no such thing, Holmyard!" Moudy said. "Starfleet officers do not kowtow to terrorist tactics." "But, captain..." "There is no need to debate, Lieutenant!" Moudy was adamant as iron. "We'll find our own way out of this without performing for Q and definitely without need for their benevolence!" ***** "Well, Commodore, this is another fine mess we've managed to get ourselves into," Blasberg said. "If it hadn't been for that distress call we could have been safe and sound in a starbase drydock. Why do we have to be so dutiful and chivalrous all the time?" "Because it pays well," George answered, "and because we're the good guys, remember?" "This 'Q' must be one outstanding bad guy if he can do all this," Riley said. "I wonder why that captain is so uppity that he won't let us in on their little secrets." "I don't trust any of them," Gelf grumbled. "Look at their uniforms. They're not Starfleet issue. And if this is a Starfleet bridge we're standing on I'll eat my phaser." "How are we going to regain our own bridge?" Keilah asked, a taint of resignation evident in her voice. "It's up there on the ceiling." "One of our many challenges," George told her, "which aren't impossible to resolve if we maintain our bearing. And to allay your concerns, Number One and Mister Gelf, I remind you we are in some kind of timewarp. Since we don't recognize this place and those people it is only common sense which relative position in time we are encountering." "The future," Makofsky breathed as he grasped the impact of when they were. "Or at the very least, our time and theirs are mingled in this warp." "And because this is the future we're seeing," Riley said, "they have to avoid creating a temporal paradox by revealing the details to us. That includes the facts about Q." "There's also the Prime Directive," Blasberg added. "They can't let slip any advanced technology to us." He stopped suddenly, doing some mental leaps of logic. "Commodore, is this the reason you won't say what happened to us during that little mishap with the Hide and Seek III wargames?" "You know I can't answer that question, Number One," George said. "Let's just answer the ones we can to straighten out our current predicament." Blasberg narrowed his eyes, certain he was on the track of George's need for secrecy. "We can't accomplish anything just standing here talking, with all due respect, sir." "No, we can't," George agreed. "We need to take action. We need to analyze this timewarp but this equipment is unfamiliar to us." He glanced up at the knot of people on the ceiling. "Like it or not, we need their help." "Yeah," Gelf said. "But are they going to offer help or do we have to coerce it out of them?" ***** Starfleet comraderie eventually prevailed over suspicion. With cooperation achieved between the two bridge crews much progress was made, if one could call it progress. They quickly discovered all exits from their respective bridges were inexplicably inaccessible. The viewscreens, they learned were also inoperative, and neither crew could gain access to the controls of their rightful bridges. Excel's crew were stuck on Excalibur's auxiliary bridge. Just as incomprehensibly, Excalibur's crew were trapped on Excel's, more advanced, main bridge. With Moudy's assistance, Kyhl and Thornburg were located in a room attached to Excel's bridge the captain called the ready room (George promised himself such a room would be constructed aboard Excalibur at her next overhaul). The helmsman and navigator were outwardly uninjured. Kukola probed with every ounce of her Betazed talent. So did Holmyard, though no one knew. Kyhl and Thornburg were diagnosed alive yet comatose. All that could be done for them, Keilah did with her Deltan pheromones, easing any pain and steadying any imbalance that threatened life. As for the rest of the two starship crews, Kukola assured each commander all were in the same condition as Kyhl and Thornburg, comatose but otherwise unhurt. Holmyard again concurred, if only to herself. She puzzled over this odd twist in Q's machinations. It couldn't be compassion that motivated them. They were incapable of acknowledging any humane emotions. Makofsky and Satok pooled their scientific talents and probed the warp with every sensor available to both ships. In spite of the strictures of the Prime Directive, it was necessary for Satok to instruct Makofsky how to operate Excel's ops panel. They learned few facts and uncovered more enigmas about the anomaly. They did, however, agree that the warp affected the physical structure of both ships to produce the uncanny merging of the two, but it was only a theory. George, Riley and Moudy worked in tandem to ascertain the status of Excalibur and Excel's warp engines. All was operational but there was no telling what firing either set of engines would do to the structural integrity of either ship. Despite all these efforts, the only resource left to them was mutual council. Talk deferred the feelings of desperation that the ships were truly and eternally entombed. "I have an idea that may help," Riley said after a while. Time within the strange warp was irrelevant. Hours could have passed, even days by now. "At this point any idea is a welcome one," Moudy said. At George's invitation Moudy had seated himself in Excailbur's center seat. Moudy had reciprocated and allowed the commodore to sit in Excel's command chair. It was from that center seat that George now spoke. "We're stuck like scarabs in amber," he commented drily. "We'll have the rest of our lives to discuss ideas. Let's hear yours, Tim." "We've been going about this the wrong way," Riley said. He was seated at ops. "We've been trying to pull away from each other, or use the transporter to exchange places, or even use what amounts to brute force to wrestle our way out of this insane space." "Yes, that about sums it up," Foye agreed. "None of those methods worked. So why remind us of our failures?" "What we haven't tried is using the warp to augment our efforts," Riley went on patiently. "From what I've seen of the readings, it is very similar in make up to the fields produced by our own warp drives." "That's true," Makofsky said. "It's been driving me crazy trying to pinpoint the power source for this warp. If we could find that, maybe we could disable it and shut down the warp." The source of power is Q, Holmyard thought, and theirs was a power to be reckoned with. Devious did in no way relate the workings of their collective ingenuity. Q must have known and counted on Captain Moudy prohibiting knowledge of the Q Continuum be passed to Excalibur's crew, and without that shared knowledge both crews were defeated before they even began. If only she could persuade the captain to permit her to bargain with Q, but... "But what I'm saying is, let's use that power to our advantage." It was easy to see that Riley was warming up to his idea. "Instead of fighting it, let's complete what the warp started." Blasberg, seated on the commodore's right, encouraged Excalibur's chief engineer. "I'm beginning to get the picture, Tim. We've been fighting the current rather than going with the flow." "Right, Daniel," Riley accorded enthusiastically. "Let's tap that power with our warp drives and follow through with this merging. I'll bet if we do that we'll not only pass both ships completely through each other, we'll all emerge outside the warp!" He frowned and shifted in his seat at the commodore's left, more from mental reluctance than physical discomfort. "I have to advise you there is a small chance that this scheme could destroy us all." "How much of a chance, Tim?" George asked calmly, ready to absorb the facts of the risk. "Eighty-three point four four zero nine percent," Satok supplied. "Good plan, over all," Moudy said. "One other problem. What if we don't emerge in our respective times?" "At least we'll be free of the warp," George said, "and free to go on with our lives in whatever time we do find ourselves. The only alternative is to enjoy each others' company here for the rest of our lives." "We know enough to operate Excalibur's warp drive," Satok said, "but Excel's warp drive is advanced compared to Excalibur's. Therefore only a crewman from Excel can operate it with the skill and precision necessary to accomplish Commander Riley's plan." "Commodore, with your permission, we can operate Excel's warp drive with Excalibur's command panel," Moudy offered, "but in order to access that, I will need Excalibur's prefix code." George felt an instinctive reluctance to reveal the code sequence that would give a stranger unlimited command of his ship. He fought and won an internal struggle in favor of the possibility of their release from the warp. "I agree, Captain," he finally allowed. "I'll place my trust and all of our lives in your hands and give you the prefix code." ***** Holmyard sensed the laughter before she heard it. Q! To assist in masqueing any stray expression betraying her alarm, she turned to face the station at which she sat. Surreptitiously, she looked to Kukola for any sign that the counselor shared the empathic experience. The sound of Q's laughter became reality before Holmyard's brain could confirm that she alone sensed the obscene joviality. Simultaneously, she saw Q fade into her awareness as the venue of the merged starships faded out. With one crook of his finger, Q siphoned her essence out of her body and drew her toward him... Not HIM, she shouted to herself, THEM! This is 'THE' Q! His laughter (THEIR laughter!) rolled over her again as she suddenly found herself at his side (THEIR side!). Try as she might, Holmyard could not help but segregate this avatar of the Q Continuum from the rest of their selves. The charisma of his/their personal proximity overwhelmed the thin demarcation between 'he' and 'they'. Both Q and Holmyard were now suspended above the scene around them. Obviously invisible, they looked down at the assembly of Excel and Excalibur's crews, herself included!?! Her body, as solid as ever, still sat at Excalibur's communications station, her back turned from the conference as if she were intently studying the panel in front of her. Would anyone notice? "No," Q answered, exposing her fears and invading the sanctity of her thoughts. "No one will notice." Her eyes flashed to his and she almost lost herself to their hypnotic power. "What do you want this time?" she demanded with venomous ice in her tone. "What is this 'prefix code'?" Q asked, ignoring her question and outrage. Holmyard followed suit. "What do you want?" she repeated purposely shielding all knowledge of the code from her mind. She must get Q to concentrate on her while the commodore passed the information. Q smiled a smile that made Holmyard melt inside, as much though she fought it. "Touche'!" he responded and without warning wrapped her in his embrace. For Holmyard the embrace contained both heaven and hell. Q's eyes pierced hers as his lips moved closer and closer to her own. 'Fight him off' was a thought only, never a possibility, before contact was made and she was swept away. She saw only the twinkle of stars in his eyes, stars that became a galaxy, a galaxy that unfolded before her, around her, engulfed her. She felt his sigh of pleasure and could not stop, did not want to stop her own. The passion deepened as her eyes fell shut and, seemingly, a warm breeze flowed out of him to caress her... inwardly... outwardly... was there a difference?... did it matter?... did anything matter? YES! a part of her screamed and somehow she forced her eyes open, to find his still filled with stars and staring into her own. NOOOOOO! Q broke the touch and to Holmyard's horror she found they were now in space, surrounded by the stars she had seen reflected in his eyes. Space! Vacuum! Death! Instinctively, she clung to him. "Nothing will harm you while you are with me," Q breathed into her face. "That will never change." Holmyard sensed the truth of his words... and something else?!? Abruptly, he shoved her from his collective being. "Look!" Q commanded, his hand and arm rising to point at a disturbance in space that Holmyard could hardly fathom. As overwhelmed as she was by the fact that she 'stood' unprotected in space, she was nonetheless mesmerized by the spectacle before her. She stared at it, unwilling to believe but unable to deny what her senses, both Human and Betazoid, screamed at her. She saw two starships, one on top of the other and from them... frustration... controlled fear... suppressed terror... total abandonment... assaulted her empathic senses, overpowering the visual image. Still, her head turned reflexively, trying to make sense of the image while her Vulcan training innately blocked the onslaught of emotions. Then her eyes opened wide as she understood. From her relative perspective, Excalibur hovered in space, upside-down, while overlapping that confusing conception was another starship, Excel, and their saucer sections were fused. "Isn't it amusing?" Q reflected joyously. "Isn't it grand?" Holmyard hardly heard him. Not HIM, that part of her insisted and it was to that part she listened. Grand!? Amusing!? It was an atrocity! He/It/They/Q were an atrocity! How dare she allow herself to be drawn into their power again!? "Your thoughts do not amuse me, Bonnie," Q said with an abrupt change of emotion. Gone were his/their amusement, as were the stars in his/their eyes. Now there were daggers - for a moment an actual image of menacing, sharpened daggers - of malice, "and after I brought you out here to warn you." "Warn me? About what?" "Riley's plan will not work." "And I'm supposed to believe YOU?" "Believe this: I won't let it work." Q stared at Holmyard, the daggers fading from his eyes, his lips curling into a smirk. "I told you I alone hold their fate in my hands." He held out his hands and the melded starships appeared therein, miniaturized and vulnerable. "You believe that, don't you, Bonnie?" She wanted to shout, NO! "Yes," she breathlessly voiced, less a breath could sway him/them toward the darker outcome of his/their amusement. "Then believe me when I say, the plan won't work. The ships WILL be destroyed, unless..." "What?" Holmyard sensed another abrupt change in emotion from him - unrestrained glee. She gazed upon the defenseless starships clutched in the hands of this amoral entity. It made her shudder. "I've decided on your punishment, Bonnie, my love. You must now decide if your fate is worth the exchange of the fates of your comrades." Suddenly, they were back inside the intersected ships, once more floating in the center 'above' each bridge. "Progress, anyone?" Commodore George was asking. Everyone manned their respective, if opposite, stations. Apparently no one had noticed her 'absence'. "I told you so," Q taunted, just as Satok, Excel's science officer responded to George's query. "One minute, Commodore, and counting." "You have one minute, Bonnie," Q pronounced. "What's it going to be? Their destruction? Their freedom? Your option, my love." A hundred things were going through Holmyard's mind but first and foremost were Captain Moudy's orders. 'You will do no such thing! We'll find our own way out of this without performing for Q and definitely without need for their benevolence.' How ironic that it is Q's malevolence that now threatens to tip the balances against our survival, Holmyard mused. "Your captain's such a spoil sport," Q acknowledged her thoughts, "but just to prove how benevolent I can be, I give you my word that, if you freely bow to my judgment upon you, I will erase all knowledge of my little Q-warp from their minds. They will recall nothing. Otherwise, well, you know how malevolent I can be." "Thirty seconds," Satok called out. "As if your word was worth anything!" Holmyard charged. Q merely shrugged their shoulders and grinned. He/They held out their hand, palm up, and began to slowly clench his/their fingers into a fist. "Twenty seconds." This from Riley. Tension washed in waves over Holmyard. Both crews knew their lives were on line with this maneuver. Their stress was only kept in check by their desperation. "You'll return each ship to its rightful time?" Q's grin widened. "Each ship... yes." "Ten..." "And their respective crews?" Holmyard pressed. "Nine..." "Everyone will be Where and When they belong," Q responded cryptically. Holmyard's eyes fell shut. She had no idea what she was condemning herself to, but she did know what the ships would face if she did not do as Q commanded. "Six..." "Five seconds left, Bonnie," Q gibed. "I can wait forever. You don't have the luxury." "Four..." "I'm yours, Q," Holmyard sighed, not bearing to open her eyes and see the triumph in Q's. "Zero," Riley pronounced. "Engage," Commodore George and Captain Moudy ordered in tandem. Q closed their fist. ***** TO BE CONTINUED... TSAO! -- "I lift my glass to the Awful Truth, which you can't reveal to the Ears of Youth, except to say it isn't worth a dime." Leonard Cohen ar153@Freenet.carleton.ca (Bonnie Q Holmyard) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!convex!convex!arco!news.utdallas.edu!corpgate!bcarh8ac.bnr.ca!bcarh189.bnr.ca!nott!cunews!freenet.carleton.ca!FreeNet.Carleton.CA!ar153 From: ar153@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Bonnie Holmyard) Subject: USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 - Part IV Message-ID: Sender: news@freenet.carleton.ca (Usenet News Admin) Organization: The National Capital FreeNet, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada Date: Thu, 6 Oct 1994 14:33:39 GMT Lines: 512 Continuing is... Copywrited 1992 by George & Holmyard WE'VE GOT TO MEET STOPPING LIKE THIS PART IV RECAPPING: "Five seconds left, Bonnie," Q gibed. "I can wait forever. You don't have the luxury." "Four..." "I'm yours, Q," Holmyard sighed, not bearing to open her eyes and see the triumph in Q's. "Zero," Riley pronounced. "Engage," Commodore George and Captain Moudy ordered in tandem. Q closed their fist. ***** BOOK TWO The Other Side ***** USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 - STARDATE 2/8910.07 Makofsky coaxed one last set of confirming readings from his equipment before turning to face the center seat and the man occupying it. "We have a problem, Commodore." "Only 'a problem'?" George asked. "That'll be a nice change of pace. Report please, Commander." "The source of the distress call is moving," Makofsky answered. "'Moving'," Blasberg said. "How can they muster the power to move when even their life support is gone?" "That's the problem," Makofsky replied. "They're probably adrift and being drawn in to the spatial anomaly I've been monitoring for the past ten minutes." "Do we have a visual fix on it?" George asked. "Aye, sir," Makofsky said. "I saw it almost at the same time the sensors registered it." "Like it just appeared out of nowhere," Riley said. "On screen," George said and the scene on the main viewer shifted and distorted until it refocused on an ebon ugliness scarring the view of stars framing it. "Not a pretty sight. And you say the source of the distress call is being pulled into that?" "Aye, sir," Makofsky affirmed, "and it's gaining velocity the nearer it gets. If we don't do something soon there may be nothing we can do at all." "Mister Kyhl, maximum speed," George said. "Mister Riley, will we be able to pull ourselves out of the grasp of whatever that is?" Riley stepped over to the science station and peered at Makofsky's discovery on the screens. "It'll be a strain but unless we cross its actual event horizon Excalibur can handle it." George nodded once, then again, assimilating the information at hand. "Makofsky, I want an analysis on that anomaly before we even have to strain to escape it. Is it energy? Is it gaseous? Where did it come from? Etcetera... Mister Gelf, prepare a tractor beam to snare our would be rescuees. I have a feeling this is going to be close." "I have a feeling your feeling is right on target, Commodore," Blasberg said. "It just isn't natural for us to do anything but the hard way." "Downhill is a difficult direction to find in space, Dan," George said. "Besides, my autobiography would be dull reading if I just coasted into..." "Commodore! I've lost the signal," Keilah announced. "It was there strong as ever then it simply cut off." An apprehensive tingle crawled up George's spine and diffused over the top of his scalp. Oddly enough, he felt like some great catastrophe had just been averted. "Science officer, any trace of an explosion at the distress call's source?" Makofsky spent an inordinate amount of time nursing readings from his equipment before responding. "Sensors were tracking... something. It's simply vanished without a trace. So has the anomaly. I don't understand it." "First it just appeared," Riley said. "Now it's disappeared." "That's ridiculous," Blasberg fumed. "Things don't simply vanish without explanation!" "We've wasted enough time searching for... whatever it was," George said. "We won't waste any more trying to explain why it suddenly isn't there to search for. Mister Kyhl, reverse course. Let's head for the nearest starbase before something else deters us." "Aye, sir," Kyhl responded and set the course with great relief. "It was a general distress call anyway," Keilah said. "It could simply have been transmitted by an old recorder marker that finally gave out." "Or it could have been some obscure alien trick," Blasberg said. "I hate it when that happens." Further speculation was aborted by the collision alert klaxon. Gelf made a deftly swift scan of the security station. "Vessel dead ahead, Commodore. Excelsior class. Speed immeasurable." "Evasives, Mister Kyhl," George said. "'Speed immeasurable'? How can something move so fast we can't track it yet the proximity alert warns of imminent collision? Mister Keilah, open hailing frequencies. Try to warn them off." "Too late!" Blasberg shouted. "Look!" The onrushing vessel abruptly appeared on the viewscreen as if it had suddenly popped into existence directly in Excalibur's path. A collision was unavoidable. Death was more than a certainty. It was destiny. ***** Excalibur collided with destiny like a hand passing through a waterfall. Something washed over the starship, but it wasn't death. "All stop!" George called out as soon as he realized he could do so, not being dead and all. "Status, Number One?" "We're alive!" "Obviously, Number One." George turned to the science station. "What was that, Mister Makofsky?" This time the science officer answered immediately. "Unknown, sir. All apparatus went off-line for the duration of whatever it was and now report all normal." "What's normal about that?" Riley demanded. "Not a thing," George concurred. "Mister Makofsky, run diagnostic checks on all systems. Mister Riley, check out all stations. Mister Keilah, damage or casualty reports?" No response. George turned slowly toward the communications station, expecting to see Keilah busy receiving the reports in question. The person occupying the post was neither Keilah nor Deltan. He fought to restrain a betraying reaction of astonishment. Though her uniform was not standard current Starfleet issue, it WAS one he recognized. He had seen (will have seen?) its like once before but the Prime Directive constrained him from revealing to anyone Where and When. That was all he had time to note, that and her angry expression. Then Gelf was at her side, an arresting hoof on her shoulder. In three strides, Blasberg joined the Tellarite security chief in confronting the intruder. "Who are you? Where did you come from? Where is Lieutenant Commander Keilah?" "Ease off, Dan," George coaxed as he too arrived at the communications station. Blasberg bristled but complied. George turned his glance to Gelf, touching briefly on the intruder in the motion. She was, he noted, studying Blasberg, intently. "Mister Gelf," he said evenly, "your reaction time is, as always, highly commendable." George insinuated his presence between the intruder and his officers. "Let me handle this, please." He extended his hands in the direction of each officer's shoulders. They stepped back, but only a little. Both were still very much on the defensive. George scanned the bridge. Riley, Kyhl, Thornburg and Makofsky were all scrutinizing the tableau. All were ready to act if the commodore was placed in jeopardy. He had to do something to defuse the situation. Keeping his position as buffer, George turned back to the intruder. He glanced at the rank on her collar, two silver pips. "Lieutenant...?" he questioned. "Holmyard, sir." "Lieutenant?!" Blasberg protested. George ignored the outburst. "Lieutenant Holmyard, can you offer any explanation for your appearance Here and Now?" "And for the disappearance of our communications officer?" Blasberg added. No hesitation. "I cannot answer that question, sir." "Just a blasted minute!" Blasberg exclaimed and pressed forward. George turned to him, caught his executive officer's gaze, and raised an eyebrow. Blasberg took the hint and exercised restraint, barely. The commodore continued. "Something prevents you?" Her eyes flickered to the first officer before she answered. "I cannot answer that question, sir." Holmyard's manner of responding was not lost on George. If anything it reinforced what he suspected to be true. "Is it possible for me to convince you otherwise?" She hesitated. He discerned her inner debate, seized on that chink in her fortitude, and cast about for a way around what limited her responsiveness. "What if I arranged to ask my questions in private, Lieutenant?" He emphasized his use of her rank, hoping she would pick up on the fact he recognized her uniform for What and When it was. "Commodore!" This time it was Makofsky who interrupted. George immediately glanced at the science officer, who motioned that he too wanted to speak in private. What now? To Holmyard, "Consider what I've said." Then he was responding to Makofsky's request. "Yes, Commander?" he asked, bending down to examine the station monitors. "Sir," came the whispered reply, "ship's sensors indicate there are currently eight people on the bridge. The rest of the ship is empty." "Empty!" George somehow whispered in return. "Yes, sir." "Explanation?" "None." "Find one!" George was disliking the situation more and more as events unfolded. The distress call, its disappearance, the collision alert and subsequent giant question mark, Keilah's disappearance, Holmyard's appearance, and now either the rest of my crew have also disappeared or Excalibur's interior scanners are down. Somehow, it all ties together. His gaze moved to Holmyard. What does she know? "Are you now willing to answer my questions, Lieutenant?" George asked as he returned to the trio at the communications station. "In private, sir," she responded. "Then, would you be kind enough to allow my security chief to escort you to a more private location?" "Sir." Holmyard rose to attention. George's sense of reality argued with his logic but could find no flaw. Holmyard WAS from the very future he himself had sojourned in recently. This presented endless questions and problems unlimited, the first being the dictates of the Prime Directive. "Mister Gelf," he said, "please escort Lieutenant Holmyard to briefing room one." "Commodore, with all due respect..." "One moment, Commander Blasberg," George said, turned to tell Gelf they could leave but was silenced by Holmyard's startled expression. She was now staring at Blasberg in absolute astonishment. "Is there a problem, Lieutenant?" he asked. Her eyes flew to his and for one brief moment he saw the terror in their depths. Then it was masterfully concealed. "No, sir," she replied. George felt his misgivings rise. Something wasn't right here, but what WAS going right today? "Very well," he said. One thing at a time. "On your way, Mister Gelf." He watched Gelf and Holmyard leave and then turned to meet Blasberg's pointed glare. He pulled them both into a secluded corner of the bridge. "Mister Makofsky has just reported that the bridge crew and the intruder are the only lifesigns detectable on this ship." A pause to let the revelation register. "You, Number One, and Commander Riley will take care of that problem while I interview Holmyard." "Would it do any good to protest, sir?" "Protest noted and overruled." "As your first officer it is my duty to..." "...safeguard my well being," George cut in. "Let me remind you that lifeguard duty extends to the crew of this ship as well as your commanding officer. That crew is missing and that demands immediate investigation." He did not like having to adopt this tactic with his second-in-command but experience had taught there was no other expedient way. "With all due respect, sir," Blasberg argued, "Holmyard could be the cause of all that has happened, yet you extend to her courtesy based on what?... your belief she's an officer? Of what fleet? Where do her loyalties lie? What makes you so sure she's as she appears? And why are you so willing to place yourself in a potentially dangerous situation?" "I cannot answer your questions at this time." Blasberg's whole demeanor changed. His frustration vanished. Instantly he became reflective. "I've only heard you phrase that particular denial once before, Commodore." As much as Blasberg was seemingly able to read the commodore's thoughts, so too could George read his first officer. More questions were formulating; insightful, intuitive questions; questions George could not allow himself to answer. Time to grab the bull by the horns. "I am going to speak with Lieutenant Holmyard alone, Dan," George said, "and that means just her and I." He watched the chaos of emotions play over Blasberg's face, identified with those emotions, but pushed his empathy aside. "Please don't press it further, Dan. I can't answer those questions I see seething in your eyes. Log your objections as you see fit, but I want you to remain here and find our crew." He grasped Blasberg's shoulder. "I need you HERE, Dan." Blasberg let the fire remain in his eyes, but mellowed his tone. "I agree, Commodore. You need me. But keep in mind, we need you as well. So, go ahead and interview Holmyard by your lonesome, but if she goes for your throat, don't say I didn't warn you." ***** TO BE CONTINUED... TSAO! -- "I lift my glass to the Awful Truth, which you can't reveal to the Ears of Youth, except to say it isn't worth a dime." Leonard Cohen ar153@Freenet.carleton.ca (Bonnie Q Holmyard) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!convex!convex!arco!news.utdallas.edu!corpgate!bcarh8ac.bnr.ca!bcarh189.bnr.ca!nott!cunews!freenet.carleton.ca!FreeNet.Carleton.CA!ar153 From: ar153@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Bonnie Holmyard) Subject: USS EXCALIBUR NCC2004 - Part V Message-ID: Sender: news@freenet.carleton.ca (Usenet News Admin) Organization: The National Capital FreeNet, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada Date: Thu, 6 Oct 1994 14:37:14 GMT Lines: 1026 Continuing is... Copywrited 1992 by George & Holmyard WE'VE GOT TO MEET STOPPING LIKE THIS PART V RECAPPING: "I am going to speak with Lieutenant Holmyard alone, Dan," George said, "and that means just her and I." He watched the chaos of emotions play over Blasberg's face, identified with those emotions, but pushed his empathy aside. "Please don't press it further, Dan. I can't answer those questions I see seething in your eyes. Log your objections as you see fit, but I want you to remain here and find our crew." He grasped Blasberg's shoulder. "I need you HERE, Dan." Blasberg let the fire remain in his eyes, but mellowed his tone. "I agree, Commodore. You need me. But keep in mind, we need you as well. So, go ahead and interview Holmyard by your lonesome, but if she goes for your throat, don't say I didn't warn you." ***** Blasberg! Blasberg! Blasberg! Blasberg! The name ran in circles in Holmyard's befuddled mind. She'd thought he'd looked familiar, but Blasberg! The last time she saw Blasberg he was Admiral Blasberg, Commander Starfleet! The very same Commander Starfleet who had chaired the joint Court Martial/Competency Review Board she had faced because of Q! As if on cue, SEDUCTION assaulted her senses and Q crowed, "Isn't this fun?!" The Tellarite security chief was gone. Now it was Q who held her arm and, as usual, his touch sent her reality reeling. She pulled her arm from his grasp and allowed her anger to quell the pervertedness of his touch. "Pervertedness!" Q snorted. "Really!" "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded. Q's instantly revitalized mirth washed over her. "THIS is your punishment, Bonnie, my love." "Punishment for what?" "Your prior effrontery to the Q." "Oh, so it's 'the' Q now, is it?" "I don't like your tone." "Get used to it, Q. I'm not the naive, trusting soul I was the last time we met." Prove it Holmyard, she silently admonished herself as flashes of the months she's spent in counseling because of that encounter flitted through her mind. Practice what you preach. "Unlike you, I've been apprised of your comings and goings. Quite frankly, 'the' Q disappoints me." "I?! Disappoint you?!" "Immaterial," Holmyard shrugged off his obvious offense with the same indifferent callousness he always employed. "Ask yourself why 'the' omnipotent, inapproachable, untouchable Q wants to punish lowly, insignificant, Bonnie Holmyard. Is it because I denied you, or because I accepted you?" Q's eyes flared with insolence. Just as quickly it disappeared. He reached to stroke her face and again she sensed .???. something? .???. what?. but her instincts demanded she draw away from his touch. Instantly, Q changed. Gone was the 'something'. Now he glared at her, but in the next moment he was casually flicking a piece of non-existent fluff from the uniform - admiral rank in evidence - he wore. "I applaud you, Bonnie," came the glib retort. "You are handling the situation most admirably. Allow me to congratulate... no... 'commend' would be the word used by your associates, wouldn't it? So, allow me to commend you on..." Holmyard cut him off. "What happened to Keilah?" "I really don't like your tone." "Answer my question!" "Only because it serves my purpose," Q said pointedly, his eyes boring into hers. Then, as haughtily as ever, "She's in your place." Holmyard's thoughts spun. Keilah was in the future!... and undoubtedly submitting to the same treatment at Captain Moudy's hands that Holmyard was experiencing at Commodore George's, but... "Does she, do they have any knowledge of your interference?" "None whatsoever..." pause "...well ...in all honesty... maybe just a little, but isn't it grand?" "It's despicable! You said nothing about others being punished." Q snapped his fingers. "I knew I overlooked something!" another pause in which Q purposely held Holmyard's eye, "but then, who can blame me when I'm being distracted by you, Bonnie, my love? But have YOU overlooked anything, or should I say 'anyone'?" She purposely ignored the taunt. "Ah, I see you have not, and besides, it's not precisely punishment. Keilah should feel honored..." "You know nothing of honor!" "...to be alive and young seventy-seven years ahead of her time. She just might get to meet a certain retired Commander Starfleet!" Q's unabashed laughter started, "and, being omnipotent, I most certainly DO know about honor." His laughter halted abruptly. His voice took a cautious tone. "And I also know this, Bonnie, one misstep on your part and you could change the future and violate your precious Prime Directive." It was as if someone had thrown a glass of frigid water in her face, so forceful was the realization of her predicament catalyzed by Q's vengeance. 'Enjoy', Q's fading mind-voice proclaimed just as Gelf said, "This way, Lieutenant." Q was gone. The turbolift had stopped. The waking nightmare continued. ***** "You may wait outside, Commander," George said as soon as he entered the briefing room. Gelf hesitated but a moment before complying. George sighed, relieved he didn't have to go through the whole I-am-the-commanding-officer routine again with his loyal security chief. He sat opposite Holmyard. Where to begin? "Lieutenant, am I correct in assuming you previously refused to answer my question based on Starfleet General Order One?" "Yes, sir." "You are from the future... seventy-eight years to be exact." It was not a question. It was offered as an opening to Holmyard to open up willingly. "Yes, sir." Obviously, she still had reservations about opening up. Another tack. "Do you have any knowledge of what happened to my communications officer." "Yes, sir." A glimmer of an opening. George plotted the vector of questions through that opening. "Allow me to speak candidly, Lieutenant. I am a man with problems, and it appears only you can offer a possible explanation. We were responding to a distress call which vanished as suddenly as it appeared. Moments later, the collision alert sounded. We were on a direct collision course with another Excelsior class starship, which had appeared out of nowhere. Some kind of clash DID occur, what? I do not know, but this ship sustained no structural damage. Then you were discovered here while our communications officer was discovered missing." He paused, then asked, "Are you a communications officer?" "Conn, sir," Holmyard averred. George assimilated the knowledge. It came from a frame of reference over seven decades in the future. He himself had been there once, by accident. The memories of that time were disjointed but what he could remember was self-censured by the Prime Directive. In this, he empathized completely with Holmyard. "Before you left the bridge, my science officer reported the bridge crew, and yourself, are all that remain on board since that ersatz collision. The rest of Excalibur's complement have vanished. If you can offer any, and I mean ANY, explanation for these occurrences, I'd advise you to do so quickly." "Permission to speak candidly, sir?" "By all means, Lieutenant." Holmyard felt a debate commence within. How far should she go? Did it make a difference? Her presence in this time period in itself violated the Prime Directive. Would she be compounding the violation by explaining even the smallest detail? But what else was she to do? Sit in a brig somewhere knowing she was responsible? No! She would not accept THAT accountability. It belonged, deservedly, to Q. "It is as you say, Commodore," she began. "I am from the future and well aware of the restrictions of General Order One. I am also aware you are under the same onus due to your involuntary visit to the Enterprise of my time." She probed for his reaction. Not surprise, more like, wariness and resolve. "I have been warned that one misstep on my part and I could alter the future as I know it." "Warned? By who?" "I cannot answer that question with those two prerequisites hanging over my head. Therefore, I have no choice but to recognize you as a Starfleet officer of Command Grade and ask that you accept my resignation from Starfleet." George thought he'd been ready to hear anything... but this?! He was about to protest when he saw her line of logic. Impressive, if technical, he thought. It puts the aegis of responsibility on my shoulders. But what impact will she have on my future if I permit her this unorthodox request? Holmyard sensed the commodore's inner conflict. "You DID recognize me as a Starfleet officer, first, sir. You face the same dilemma I do. We have both revealed too much to each other already, have we not?" "I cannot answer that question, Lieutenant." It was the standard response dictated by the Prime Directive, the one Holmyard had been giving all along yet now it was George's turn to voice it. He saw his slight smile mirrored on her face. Holmyard was facing her dilemma most resourcefully. "I will not deny that I'm deliberately trying to use the paradox we share to manipulate our way out from under the Prime Directive's restrictions," she continued, "and I'm aware that my resignation would not truly eradicate my duty to Starfleet as I know it, but, it's the only solution that comes to mind." "Would you have me resign as well, Lieutenant?" George asked. He saw her eyebrow raise in astonishment at his suggestion, an oddly Vulcanesque mannerism. "Or, would you rather act on the fact we share some knowledge of my future, your former present, and continue to build on that foundation? No matter what you reveal to me, know that the Prime Directive secures my silence. But, I need to know why Lieutenant Commander Keilah has vanished, where you came from, and where the rest of my crew has gone." Holmyard felt respect for this commodore increase, along with a now-doubly-alerted appreciation of Q's manipulative powers. George was giving her every opportunity to willingly provide the information he requested, no thanks to Q. But then again, she and George did indeed share a common paradox, and that WAS thanks to the Q, at least on her part. I'll get you for this, Q, she silently vowed, while another part of her grasped at the surprising solution her vow incited. "Then, sir, I ask you permit me to meld with you." "'Meld'?!" This intruder was unlike any other and full of surprises as well. "As in Vulcan MIND meld?!" "Yes, sir." "You're not Vulcan!" "My ancestry is Human/Betazoid..." "...like Counselor Deanna Troi of the Enterprise from your time?" There, a no-turning-back confession that would have flatly violated the Prime Directive if not for the fact Holmyard was from the future. Would she really now reciprocate? "Yes, sir," she answered with pause, "but I 'have' mastered the intricacies of the Vulcan mind meld and believe, in this instance, it should be used. I 'am' an adept, sir. If you do as I instruct, the procedure will be painless and provide you with all the information I have regarding the situation we now find ourselves in." There was no time for hesitation or conjecture, this the commodore knew. Still, he hesitated. '...if she goes for your throat, don't say I didn't warn you...'. Blasberg's echoing words increased George's trepidation. What would the first officer say if he knew it was not George's throat Holmyard was after, but his mind? Plenty, if George knew Blasberg any at all, which he did, but what did either of them truly know about the Vulcan mind meld? Nothing. All George knew personally was that many a Vulcan of his acquaintance expressed profound reservations to performing the meld with any but another Vulcan. It had something to do with the unstructured chaos of non-Vulcan thoughts and, of course, the unquestionable invasion of privacy. He's really balking in spite of the advantage that could be gained, Holmyard thought. Okay, here goes, "You and your ship are at the mercy of an omnipotent, possibly malevolent entity known in the twenty-fourth century as the Q Continuum." A blatant Prime Directive violation, just as his had been. Mutual trust was growing. For the safety of Excalibur and her crew George would risk almost anything. "What do I have to do?" The red alert klaxon intercepted her response. He immediately activated the intercom. "Bridge, this is George. What's happening?" "Another collision alert, Commodore," Blasberg responded. "Cut the alarm, will you, Tim?" this to the chief engineer. Then, "It looks like we're going to crash with another Excelsior class starship, sir." "Evasives!" George somehow knew it to be futile. "Too late! Brace yourself!" George and Holmyard felt something obscene wash through them, but it was gone in an instant. The bridge reported in the next. "We're still in one piece, sir," Blasberg informed him, "and reports are now coming in from other parts of the ship." "The crew has returned?" George shared gazes with Holmyard, gauging her reaction. "Not all sir." This from Makofsky. "Excalibur now has one-third of her crew back." "Set course, Number One," George ordered. "Best speed for Starbase Eighty-eight." "Make it so, Mister Kyhl," Blasberg relayed to the helmsman. Instantly, klaxons sounded again. "Another collision alert, Commodore. May I suggest you interrupt the interview and return to the bridge?" "On my way, Number One." George cut the connection. "Is this more of the 'Q Continuum''s handiwork, Lieutenant?" "Anything is possible where Q is involved, sir," Holmyard replied. "Let's get to the bridge and try to put a stop to this," George said, inferring she accompany him. Before they were out the door the obscenity washed over them yet again. ***** "Status?" George asked as he stepped out of the turbolift. Blasberg swiveled the center seat in the turbolift's direction. "We're at a dead stop again, sir," he reported, suspiciously eyeing Holmyard. "No structural damage. No explanation." George saw that Holmyard had stepped just beyond the turbolift, and stopped. "Man the communications station, Mister Holmyard," he ordered, "and ascertain if Chief Medical Officer Saalk is among the 'returned' crew." He saw her doubt and sensed Blasberg's flinch in protest beside him. To them both, he said, "We need all the trained help we can get in this situation." Holmyard stood a moment longer, extending her Betazoid talents to gauge the measure of the commodore's trust in her. Satisfied that he was as good as his word, she sat in the communication station's seat, pointedly ignored all thoughts of Blasberg, and placed a call to sickbay. The console wasn't too far removed from the controls she was used to. Some of the training modules at the academy had been almost museum pieces. To allay mounting tension on the bridge, George proceeded to garner information from the crew. "Did any of the crew report their experinces between disappearing and returning?" "None to speak of," Blasberg responded, "though Lieutenant Commander Titus did inquire why the collision alert was cancelled so abruptly." George couldn't help but smile. He could not deny that the records officer's welfare had been somewhat distracting his concentration. It was comendably canny of Blasberg to relieve George's anxiety without stressing his new-found relationship with Titus. "Structural damage?" "Same as before, sir," Riley answered. "Sensors say we hit something, yet there's not a bolt or a weld out of joint on the entire ship." "Explanation?" "Same as before," Makofsky said, "and in case you're wondering, it's not the Emfive Virus. I ran Commander Titus's ferret program. The EV is still in remission." George turned to Holmyard, his expression saying, 'now do you realize what we're facing?'. At the same time he realized she probably knew better than anyone what it was, exactly, they were facing. "I'm open to suggestions, people." "I suggest we reverse course," Riley said immediately, "if for no other reason than we haven't." "I concur," Makofsky said, "but not for the same reason. There is a ninety-nine percent probability we will experience another such 'collision'. If so, it will substantiate a theory that's been byting at my memory." "A theory, Mister Makofsky?" George questioned. "Would you care to elaborate?" "It's referred to as the Mobius Loop." "That's never been proven," Riley cut in. "Maybe we're experiencing the proof." "I've never heard of this Mobius Loop," Blasberg said, "so I'm in the dark, here." George reigned in a retort prompted by Blasberg's last comment. Usually, he and the first officer kept a running ribbing going between them, however, now was not the time for superfluous levity. "I saw a drawing by M. C. Escher once - giant ants crawling over a loop twisted in on itself. Is that what we're talking about here?" "Minus the ants, yes sir," Makofsky answered. "Even the experts are in the dark where the Mobius Loop theory is concerned. It's based on a chronal doppler effect or the telescoping of time. Remember that spatial anomaly we detected just before the distress call disappeared?" George nodded. "If that anomaly was some sort of timewarp, and if we were caught in its tide..." George couldn't help but glance at Holmyard at the word 'timewarp' but at the same time the chief engineer was reminding them, "We never came close to its actual event horizon." "According to the sensors, that's true," Makofsky rebutted, "but, if we WERE caught in some sort of timewarp it would explain the hapless collisions we've been experiencing." This is beginning to make sense, George thought. "So you're saying that, based on this Mobius Loop theory, the first collision we experienced was ourselves from the future, which pushed the crew ahead in time," and deposited Holmyard in our midst he appended in thought. "Then, the next two collisions were also us, but from the past, thus the partial return of the crew." Blasberg's mind was churning at warp speed, grappling with the concept and the solution. "That means we have to either pursue us to the next contact or wait for us to catch up with us in the present. Ouch! My brain hurts when I say stuff like this." "If all that happens like Daniel says," Riley took up the reasoning, "the rest of the crew should 'return' and hopefully provide us with an escape from this Mobius Loop." "Exactly," Makofsky exclaimed. "but, it IS just a theory and as with all theories there are variables." "Of course there are," Blasberg said. "Nothing ever happens to us simply or without complications." His pointed glance at Holmyard did not go unnoticed by either the mystifying exile herself or the commodore. Blasberg rarely missed a chance to score a point in an argument. "What variables are we talking about?" George asked. "Decisions," Makofsky replied, "each one we make and the time span between each decision." George's thoughts spun at the implications. "The first collision happened immediately following the disappearance of the distress call and directly prior to the disappearance of the crew, with the exception of the bridge personnel." "Except Keilah," Blasberg put in. George let that fact slide without comment. "The next collision happened... when? Do we have a running chronology of the collisions?" Makofsky consulted a PADD. "Affirmative, sir. The time span between the first and second collisions was exactly thirty-three minutes, thirty-three point three three seconds." "But the next happened almost immediately," Riley added, "when we changed course." "And we've been at a dead stop since," George said. "Time span?" "Fifteen minutes, fifty-five seconds," Makofsky supplied. "So we can wait another seventeen plus minutes and see if another 'us' from the past happen along," George said, "or we can reverse course now." "If we wait too long the Mobius Loop may very well protract," Makofsky cautioned. "If we act now we could curtail its effects." "I recommend we reverse course now," Blasberg said. George sighed. Command decisions were a constant source of such sighs. "I never have been one for waiting around to see what happens. Mister Kyhl, reverse course, maximum speed." Kyhl complied with alacrity. As anticipated, the collision alert sounded, followed immediately by that wash of obscenity they were almost growing accustomed to. "Extraordinary," Doctor Saalk said as he exited the turbolift. "May I inquire what is causing these unsettling phenomenae?" "Hopefully, our salvation, Doctor," George replied. He saw one of Saalk's eyebrows lower in mild puzzlement. "Have our science officer here explain Mobius Loops to you, Doctor." "No need," Saalk deferred. "I am well versed on the topic." "Where were you a few minutes ago when we needed an expert?" Blasberg asked. "Never mind, don't answer that. I might run into the answer yesterday and really screw up my plans for tomorrow." "Are we free of the Mobius?" Riley asked. Makofsky stabbed at relays and observed readouts. "Unknown, but ship's inner scanners now report full crew complement restored." "Let's push this theory to its limits," George said. "Mister Thornburg, plot a course for Starbase Eighty-eight. Mister Kyhl, lay it in, best speed." A collective breath was held as the navigator and helmsman made it so. Seconds passed with no collision alert sounding. The seconds stretched to one full minute and the collective breath was released in collective, jubilant cheers. They were free... ...or not so free. The smile on George's face was short-lived when he met Holmyard's solemn gaze. She shook her head. They may have escaped the Mobius Loop but she was obviously of the belief they were still gripped in Q's clutches. "Doctor Saalk, may I have a word with you in private?" George asked, and since Blasberg was being ubiqitous as ever, "You too, Number One?" Might as well toss the bull into the arena. When both officers stood beside the center seat he continued. "Doctor, what can you tell us about the mind meld?" Saalk's eyebrows arched for the ceiling. "Sir?" "Is there danger involved?" Blasberg straightened to full height and crossed his arms. The commodore's interrogative tack was proceeding in a most irksome direction. Did he lie awake at night thinking up ways to make his executive officer's job more difficult? "What's this all about, sir?" George held up a hand, tacitly requesting restraint. He returned his full attention to the Vulcan chief medical officer, an expectant question evident in his eyes. At once, the Vulcan was all Vulcan. "The meld is not openly discussed, Commodore, as you are well aware, thus there must be a purpose to your inquiry. To specify, do you refer to the dangers of the meld applied to a non-Vulcan?" George nodded. "Then the danger is prevalent in such a case. The meld is much more than just an inherent Vulcan trait. It is also an art, and like any aptitude demands practice for perfection especially when a non-Vulcan is involved." George felt his viscera quiver at the foreboding taint in Saalk's words. Exerting control to remain outwardly calm he asked, "What is the exact nature of the danger?" Saalk paused, formulating an informative answer that would not compromise Vulcan proscriptions and sacrosanctities concerning the meld. "The meld is the literal merging of one mind with another and all the connotations that synergy infers. If an adept performs the act, and if the recipient is openly receptive, the danger is minimized. Without those factors, the meld becomes an invasion wherein the stronger Vulcan mind seizes control. Damage to the weaker mind is often the result hence the danger becomes self-evident. Vulcans develop mental shields to protect the integrity and autonomy of the katra. Non-Vulcans are deficient in this advantage." "Once a meld is in progress, does the recipient show any detectable signs of... damaging effects?" George winced mentally at the imagery. "Yes, sir. Properly performed the meld is a..." he searched for a word to convey the Vulcan concept, "...spiritually uplifting experience. It can be equally as counter-productive should either communicant resist. Both communicants outwardly display the peace or the conflict of the union. I stress, Commodore, their two minds are one." Blasberg ground his teeth in apprehension, then asked, "Can an observer stop the meld if circumstances demand it?" "To a certain extent," Sallk replied. "Physical contact with the mind in jeopardy is required. One final caution, separation does not completely sever the bond. The communicants forever hold a part of each other in their minds." Well, I DID ask, George ruefully mused, and reached a fully informed decision. "Then, if I submit to such a meld you could monitor and..." "Wait a minute," Blasberg halted the question. "What do you mean, 'if you submit'? With who? Why?" George cleared his throat, met his first officer's eyes and said, "With Holmyard. Because I have a need to know." "Holmyard!?" Blasberg's gaze flew to the woman he considered 'the intruder'. She met the visual assault unflinchingly. "She's NOT Vulcan!" "True, though she is an adept." "She told you this?" Saalk's curiosity was greatly piqued at the prospect. "Yes, and I believe her." Steel laced Blasberg's words. "I will not permit you to do this, Commodore, with all due respect." "With Saalk close at hand the safety factor is acceptable, Number One." "But the risk factor is not." "Commodore, I too must object," Saalk said. "I find your logic in error. Holmyard is not Vulcan, therefore it is impossible for her to be adept at the meld. You will be placing your mind, your very life in an extremely dangerous position by submitting to whatever she is able to attempt." George knew he needed Saalk's willing cooperation or he could not allow Holmyard this unorthodox method of explaining, and needless to say, neither would his over-protective first officer. "Meld with Holmyard yourself, Doctor. If you feel her incompetent afterwards I will abide by your trained opinion." Saalk favored Holmyard with a calculating gaze. Then, "We will be in sickbay, Commodore. If the outcome is favorable, I will notify you." Wordlessly, he headed for the turbolift. A look from George dismissed Holmyard to accompany the Vulcan to sickbay. George already knew the outcome WOULD be amenable. Like phasers against shields, the commodore felt more than saw Blasberg's scrutiny. Obviously, persuading him would take more than a mere Vulcan mind meld. "Is there a problem, Dan?" "I don't want to have to log an official protest, Commodore," Blasberg said quietly but heatedly. "But I 'will' do so if you go through with this." "You always do the proper thing, Dan," George said. "That's why I have complete faith in you." Blasberg was visibly stung by the comment. Going against the commodore's will was not an easy thing for him to do. "Permission to leave the bridge, sir?" George did not question the request. "Ten minutes, Number One. If I'm not here when you return, I'll be in sickbay. You may join me there, if you wish." He reached up and grasped Blasberg's shoulder. "I may need you." He watched Blasberg enter the turbolift, knowing he was doing his first officer a great injustice. ***** TO BE CONTINUED... TSAO! -- "I lift my glass to the Awful Truth, which you can't reveal to the Ears of Youth, except to say it isn't worth a dime." Leonard Cohen ar153@Freenet.carleton.ca (Bonnie Q Holmyard) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!convex!convex!arco!news.utdallas.edu!corpgate!bcarh8ac.bnr.ca!bcarh189.bnr.ca!nott!cunews!freenet.carleton.ca!FreeNet.Carleton.CA!ar153 From: ar153@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Bonnie Holmyard) Subject: USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 - Part VI Message-ID: Sender: news@freenet.carleton.ca (Usenet News Admin) Organization: The National Capital FreeNet, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada Date: Thu, 6 Oct 1994 14:39:10 GMT Lines: 496 Continuing is... Copywrited 1992 by George & Holmyard WE'VE GOT TO MEET STOPPING LIKE THIS PART VI RECAPPING: "You always do the proper thing, Dan," George said. "That's why I have complete faith in you." Blasberg was visibly stung by the comment. Going against the commodore's will was not an easy thing for him to do. "Permission to leave the bridge, sir?" George did not question the request. "Ten minutes, Number One. If I'm not here when you return, I'll be in sickbay. You may join me there, if you wish." He reached up and grasped Blasberg's shoulder. "I may need you." He watched Blasberg enter the turbolift, knowing he was doing his first officer a great injustice. ***** Blasberg fumed silently through the turbolift ride. He fumed all the more as he stormed purposefully down one corridor after another as he recalled the commodore's total disregard of his first officer's protests. He hated the thought of the underhandedness of what he was planning, but George seemed unyielding in his intent to place himself at risk. Incapable of swaying the commodore, Blasberg's helplessness had stoked his fuming to seething by the time he charged into the records department. "Commander Titus," he all but barked, "summon a replacement then come with me!" Lieutenant Commander Deborah Titus nearly fell out of her chair in surprise. "Commander?" "There's no time for questions, Commander. The commodore is in danger. Summon your replacement. We have to work fast to save him." Titus complied immediately. Thoughts of George at risk spurred her alacrity. Blasberg heard her taut summons and tried to calm his own racing heart. It was a waste of energy. "I'm ready," Titus said as she joined him at the door." "I'll explain as we walk," Blasberg began. "We have to be in sickbay before the commodore arrives." He had no doubt that George WOULD be arriving shortly at sickbay to commence his ill advised and poorly considered (i.e. foolish) scheme. ***** Logic had demanded Saalk question Holmyard's alleged adeptness at the meld, just as the next logical step had been to submit to the procedure himself. Seated on the couch in his sickbay office, one simple touch from Holmyard had alleviated all of Saalk's reservations. How the Human had acquired the skill was beyond the Vulcan's understanding, their meld had not been that insightful or incisory, but that Holmyard had entered and withdrawn from Saalk's mind, leaving no presence behind and removing nothing, was irrefutable. "There will be no danger," Holmyard reaffirmed. "I AM an adept." "I no longer question your ability," Saalk averred. "I'm glad to hear you say so, Doctor" George said as he entered the doctor's office. He looked around, somewhat disappointed that Blasberg was not present. Whenever George was in jeopardy, Blasberg's bullheadness was often a saving virtue. Almost as if conjured, Blasberg burst into sickbay, Titus in tow. "Did we miss the cartoon? I hate arriving at a film after the cartoon is over." As soon as the first officer entered sickbay, Holmyard felt the intensity of his true emotions. Despite his jocularity, he was still angry, resentful of her presence and wounded at the commodore's secrecy, but now all were painstakingly kept in check by an underlying deceit. That was all the analysis she had time for. A taunting laugh echoed through her mind. Q! she spoke mentally to the entity responsible for all she was facing. So you're watching, are you? No response. And that's when Holmyard noticed the petite, blond, blue-eyed officer who had entered with Blasberg. The fierce sense of protectiveness the woman projected was like a slap in the face to Holmyard. Compounding the assault was the flare of George's emotions, a similar protectiveness together with an inflamed yet repressed yearning. They're in love, Holmyard's Betazoid talent advised. Oh no, George thought. What has Blasberg done now? "Lieutenant Holmyard, allow me to introduce Lieutenant Commander Deborah Titus, ship's records officer." "Commander," Holmyard said respectifully. "Lieutenant," Titus responded neutrally. "Commodore, may I speak with you a moment in private?" It sounded like a request but felt, to Holmyard, like a demand. George's glance nailed all present, but Titus, with a tacit command. Immediately Saalk, Blasberg and Holmyard withdrew into sickbay's diagnostic ward. ***** "If you will excuse me a moment, Commander?" Saalk immediately asked of Blasberg, "There is something I must corroborate." "Something to do with the commodore melding with," he shot Holmyard a piercing glance, "the lieutenant?" "No, sir, I have no consternations in that regard." Blasberg was not convinced, this Holmyard could sense, still he nodded his permission and the doctor hurried away. The first officer then pointedly ignored her. She just as pointedly studied him. How was it she had not recognized him before for who he was, or rather, who he would be? The resemblance to the Blasberg of her time was now undeniable. Granted he was much younger, but the cut of his jaw was the same, as were his eyes. How could she have spent so much time in his presence aboard the merged starships without noticing? Of course, all throughout the Q-warp Blasberg had NOT been the most dominate male on her mind, and if memory served, he'd been referred to constantly as Number One. It had taken mention of his name for her to see the similarities and, with mounting horror, come to realize he was/is/will be Admiral Daniel C. Blasberg, the recently retired Commander Starfleet. That is, if she hadn't already changed the course of that future by being here with him now. And right now he was glaring at her. "Yes, Lieutenant?" he said from between clenched teeth. "You don't trust me, do you Commander?" "You have done nothing to earn my trust, Lieutenant." There was no ignoring the sarcasm in his use of her rank. "That's a valid assertion, but why are you not willing to accept your commanding officer's trust in me?" She felt his anger surge at the mention of Commodore George, along with yet another fervent sense of protectiveness. "You are an intruder on this ship, Lieutenant. You do NOT belong here. How you convinced the commodore to trust you, I don't know, nor do I condone what you are about to do to him, but as far as my trusting you, forget it!" ***** Commodore George did not need Holmyard's Betazoid skills to sense Titus's alarm. "What did Dan tell you, Debbie?" "Everything he knew, which wasn't much. Who is she? Where did she come from? Is it true you intend to allow her to attempt to meld with you?" Blasberg often charged across one line too many, like now. "I can't tell you that." "Why not? Why are you so determined to go through with this? Dan told me even Doctor Saalk advises against it." "Saalk is now convinced Holmyard is adept." George let Titus read the truth in his eyes. He took her hand, soft and warm as ever. "Debbie, as much as I do NOT appreciate Number One going to you with this, I do appreciate your concern..." "I very much doubt that." Tears were beginning to well in her eyes. "There will be no danger." Titus withdrew her hand. "What of the danger to us?" Now George was puzzled. "What do you mean?" "The mind meld is a joining, is it not? You and she will be forever united in a way I can never share with you." The love George felt for Titus suddenly saturated him. He pulled her into his arms. "A unity in thought only, my love," he whispered into her hair, "and only specific thoughts at that. You and I will be sharing a far stronger bond than mere thought before too long. You are the only one I will aspire to meld with to that extent. Holmyard means nothing more to me than the knowledge of who she is, where she came from and a possible threat I can't reveal to you. I do this for the safety of my ship and crew. You must look at it in that light and have faith in my love for you." Titus said nothing for one long, agonizing minute. Her embrace only tightened. Then, "You ask a lot of me, Commodore." George broke the embrace to stare into her eyes and smile. "But I ask it only of YOU, Commander." A kiss sealed his sincerity and vow. The others were then summoned to return. George looked at Titus, Blasberg, Saalk and Holmyard each in turn. "Time is of the essence. Shall we begin?" "Perhaps we should sit, sir," Holmyard suggested and she and the commodore did so, utilizing the couch that ran along one wall of the doctor's office. Saalk immediately retrieved a tricorder from his desk and moved to stand close. Titus sank into another chair, feeling very conspicuous. Blasberg also hovered, protectively, nearby. Holmyard faced George directly. "I will not be invading your thoughts, Commodore. I shall simply open my mind to your presence and lead you to the memories which apply. If you find you have questions, simply think them and I shall answer in my thoughts in return." With no further preamble, Holmyard reached for the commodore's face, her fingers seeking the touch-points that would establish the meld. Their eyes fell shut. At first George felt nothing. Then a caress of emotions stroked his consciousness, as soft as the petals of a rose. A rose? YES. IT IS MY IMAGE OF MY THOUGHTS, Holmyard's voice clearly spoke inside his mind. OUR MINDS ARE GROWING CLOSER. OUR THOUGHTS ARE BECOMING ONE. OUR MEMORIES ARE MERGING. The 'rose' unfolded, deep red petals, so soft, so delicate, each embracing the other, then unfurling, blossoming, petal upon secret petal, the fragrance redolent, evocative, revealing, exposing images, impressions, memories, emotions. THIS IS Q, again the touch soft, fragile. Then came the perfect image of a man, NOT A MAN, but it was a man: tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed, handsome. Handsome? OUR MINDS ARE ONE. You find him handsome? No answer save a surge of emotion that flooded his awareness and answered his query beyond ways mere words could never convey. You love him? Hesitation did not exist. FOREVER. But I thought...? ONE CANNOT CONTROL THE POWER OF LOVE, COMMODORE, NOR THE POWER OF Q. OBSERVE. Crashing waves, warm summer wind, Holmyard and Q together, the force of love felt for each other. What happened? OBSERVE. A Galaxy class starship... Enterprise... Picard. George felt recognition surge at the images. There was no way he could conceal the knowledge, melded as they were. YOUR SECRET IS SAFE WITH ME. As is yours with me. OBSERVE. And George did observe and he learned of the power of Q, from Farpoint to... Blasberg?! Commander Starfleet!?! YES, SIR. YET ANOTHER PARADOX I, WE, MUST FACE. ...to Q-warp, and through all the mind-boggling revelations, George shared Holmyard's horror at loving such an entity, her shame at the catastrophe such a love had instigated. You could not have know. You're not to blame. D O N ' T B E S O S U R E. A new voice reverberated through the joining. Q! Y E S, M Y L O V E, I A M H E R E. Why do you torture her? An instant wave of repugnant offensiveness washed over George. B E G O N E! NO! RELEASE HIM! W H Y D O Y O U S H A R E Y O U R L O V E W I T H H I M ? I DID NOT SHARE MY LOVE. Y O U S H A R E D T H E I N T I M A T E K N O W L E D G E O F O U R L O V E! YOU LEFT ME NO CHOICE! I T I S Y O U W H O L E A V E M E N O C H O I C E. LEAVE THE COMMODORE OUT OF YOUR PLANS FOR PUNISHING ME, Q! W I L L Y O U T E R M I N A T E T H I S I N S U L T I N G M E L D W I T H S U C H A N U N W O R T H Y M I N D? IF YOU LEAVE THE COMMODORE UNHARMED, YOU CAN TAKE ME FROM THIS TIME AND PLACE AND DO WITH ME WHAT YOU WILL. No, Holmyard! It's too danger... S O B E I T, B O N N I E, M Y L O V E. L I G H T ! Brighter than white. It flared abruptly in the shroud of darkness that had imprisoned George. Deja vu overwhelmed him as he fully recalled one other time he had been so dazzled. "Commodore!" It was Saalk's voice. "Walt!" Titus's. "Q!" George exclaimed as the purple afterimages that all but blinded him began to sizzle to yellow. His returning sight seized those around him. "Where's Holmyard?" ***** TO BE CONTINUED... TSAO! -- "I lift my glass to the Awful Truth, which you can't reveal to the Ears of Youth, except to say it isn't worth a dime." Leonard Cohen ar153@Freenet.carleton.ca (Bonnie Q Holmyard) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!convex!convex!arco!news.utdallas.edu!corpgate!bcarh8ac.bnr.ca!bcarh189.bnr.ca!nott!cunews!freenet.carleton.ca!FreeNet.Carleton.CA!ar153 From: ar153@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Bonnie Holmyard) Subject: USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 - Part VII Message-ID: Sender: news@freenet.carleton.ca (Usenet News Admin) Organization: The National Capital FreeNet, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada Date: Thu, 6 Oct 1994 14:41:22 GMT Lines: 627 Continuing is... Copywrited 1992 by George & Holmyard WE'VE GOT TO MEET STOPPING LIKE THIS PART VII RECAPPING: L I G H T ! Brighter than white. It flared abruptly in the shroud of darkness that had imprisoned George. Deja vu overwhelmed him as he fully recalled one other time he had been so dazzled. "Commodore!" It was Saalk's voice. "Walt!" Titus's. "Q!" George exclaimed as the purple afterimages that all but blinded him began to sizzle to yellow. His returning sight seized those around him. "Where's Holmyard?" ***** In the moonlight the water looked perfectly black, the foam perfectly white. Holmyard sat on the rocky ledge she had sat upon countless times before awash with emotions, her own for a change. An aching apprehension, not her own, suddenly crashed over her as ceaselessly as the waves that pounded the rocks beyond the sandy shore. It's still as breath-taking as ever. Her head twirled left. There he sat; as assured, as poised, as beguiling as ever. "It troubles me that you've never returned," Q said aloud. The compassion in his voice contained no falsehood she could detect, but again she sensed that elusive 'something'. This time, however, she perceived it for what it was. The tidal wave of her disbelief surged to meet the swell of his apprehension. "This is your paradise," Q said, his voice now a sincere and solemn plea, "our paradise." A moment before they had been on a starship in deep space. Now they were on Terra, at her hideaway just south San Francisco. Just as abruptly they were on the beach, the water streaking over the smooth, hard-packed sand, lapping at their bare feet, Q's arm around Holmyard's waist, pulling her close. The seduction of his touch brought an onslaught of memories, followed by the unbridled gush of his love, his unquestionable devotion, wrapping around her more surely than his arms. His eyes were more than just piercing, and his lips - his full and enticing lips - moved closed and closer to her own. 'Fight him off' did not even enter her mind. Contact, his lips to hers, the perfect consummation of desire. Passion flared, blazed, erupted, displacing all thoughts, all resolve. There was only him, her, together, forever. 'Yes,' the symphony of his telepathy sighed through her being. 'Together, forever, like you promised.' How long their kiss lasted, Holmyard could not fathom - it could have been seconds, it seemed like a blissful eternity - then she was staring into the stars of his eyes. "I love you, Bonnie," Q breathed into her face. "Don't reject me again." It was the right thing to say. It was the wrong thing to say. Once again she felt the rush of power. How could such a being as he... no... THEY... feel devotion for her? But at the same time came the certainty of the corruption of his... THEIR love. Holmyard knew the impossibility of loving only Q without also accepting all the Q Continuum. "I will love YOU forever, Q, but I can't love the Q Continuum all at once. We can never be..." "Please," he pleaded, his face now a mask of torture. "You once shared with me your love, unconditionally, and, you gave me that love for eternity. It has only deepened since that moment." The stark, unfeigned honesty of his/their NO! 'his' words and emotions, swept over her. Grasp tightly to your sanity Holmyard, she admonished herself. "You said you'd completely wiped all thoughts of me from your collective memory," she said callously. "I lied." Definitely not the comeback she'd expected. Not that she wanted to ignite his wrath again, once was enough, but she had to find some way out of this situation or she never could. "What of your Q-warp, Q? What of Keilah, trapped in the future?" With a blinding flash of light, that peculiarity that was Q's alone, Holmyard found herself on the merged bridges of Excel and Excalibur. She watched as the moments before their attempt to escape the Q-warp replayed before her... ***** USS EXCEL NCC 1722 - STARDATE 3/6703.12 Riley, Excalibur's chief engineer, had begun the countdown to the moment that would test whether or not their ingenuity would save or destroy them. During that countdown, Captain Gary R. Moudy, Excel's commanding officer, could not recall drawing one breath, or releasing the last one he had inhaled. At the instant Riley reached, 'Zero', Moudy had looked up, into his own bridge, and met the gaze of Commodore Walter S. George sitting in Excel's center seat. There he saw complete accord. "Engage," they had commanded as one. Pressing the appropriate controls, closing the corresponding relays and tapping the feral energies had occurred without sound all in an instant of time. Then the vibrations had begun and they seemed to last an eternity. The very marrow of their bones had felt and endured the shaking, and not without pain. It had begun to grow warm, then hot, then scorching. What was the old phrase? 'The ship can't take much more or she'll blow up!' Well, the crew had been in no better shape in that moment. Surely, the sense of reality had dimmed within everyone's awareness. Moudy wasn't sure if consciousness had left any of them or not. Then had come the brilliant, white flash of light, and the heat. The shaking and disorientation had all ended with an abrupt rudeness that had stunned the senses. As Moudy sat absolutely still, attempting to sort out the scrambled input his senses were relaying to his brain, he reflected that, that very flash of light had occurred twice since the whole macabre escapade had begun. Reports of the encounter at Farpoint between Enterprise and Q came to mind as he tried to analyze the meaning of that blinding explosion of light. It had been reported by Captain Picard that Q's displays of power were accompanied by such a flash. And suddenly it all fit into place in his mind with a nearly audible 'click'. Holmyard WAS right! Q WAS to blame for the predicament they had all found themselves in! That second flash, then... did it herald Q's interference to abort their successful escape from the timewarp? As if that apocalypse had dispelled the disorientation from his mind, Moudy grasped in one gestalt where he was - back on his own bridge on his own starship. He pushed himself out of his very own center seat and pivoted around to take a mental roll call of his crew. There was Commander Foye to the right, as always, rubbing his temples, eyes tightly closed. Counselor Kukola to the left, staring straight ahead but focused on no particular sight. COUNSELOR! LINDA, CAN YOU HEAR ME? Bonnie?! I'M TRAPPED IN THE PAST, LINDA. Q HAS CONTROL OF MY DESTIN... Bonnie? Lieutenant Kemp was draped across his security board, stirring feebly as if just returning to the world of the conscious. The ops station was vacant, for Commander Satok lay against the forward viewscreen, all limbs akimbo, yet with Vulcan serenity still ruling his comatose (dead?) features. And at the conn was slumped the form of Lieutenant... not Holmyard! The officer's scalp was hairless identifying her as Deltan, in all likelihood. Her uniform an anachronism from a time before: the blood-red tunic, the shoulder rank identifying her as Lieutenant Commander, her one leg dressed in black with the red stripe running down the side. No where else were any of Excalibur's crew, or their ship for that matter, to be seen, except for her. "Who is that?" Foye asked bleakly and rose unsteadily to join Moudy in the survey. "Isn't that one of Commodore George's crew? "Yes, Number One," Moudy affirmed, "Lieutenant Commander Keilah, communications officer, if memory serves, and now refugee from the past." Foye turned to perform the same roster check Moudy had moments before. He moved to inspect Kukola a bit closer, to aid her recovery in any way he could. "I don't see Lieutenant Holmyard anywhere." Moudy was up by the viewscreen, checking Satok for outward signs of injury, relieved to find the Vulcan still alive. "Neither do I, though after that turbulent departure from the warp there's no telling if she's still on board or... elsewhere." "Shouldn't that be, 'elsewhen'?" Foye asked as he gingerly placed two fingers on the side of the Deltan's neck. "For that matter, when are we?" After feeling the subtle push of blood circulating through the vein, "There's a pulse. She's alive." "Let's see if we can stabilize the injured," Moudy said, "then ask questions. Bridge to sickbay." Silence, ominous, meaningful, sobering... "Sickbay, Sonuk here." Moudy heaved a much welcome, long overdue sigh of relief. "It's good to hear you're still with us, Doctor." "I am in sickbay, Captain. I am not with you on the bridge." "I meant... never mind." Moudy shared a puzzled look with his Number One. "Are you busy down there, Doctor Sonuk?" "The duty day proceeds at a routine level of activity." "What about casualties? Or fatalities?" "Captain, are you well? There have been no injuries reported today. Indeed, there have been none since Xixor." Moudy's lips tightened as he mused over Sonuk's apparent ignorance of events in the timewarp. "As a matter of fact, Doctor, your services are needed here on the bridge." "I will be there momentarily, Captain. Sonuk out." "What do you make of that, Number One?" Moudy asked, not sure if he had an answer. "Were we or were we not trapped in a timewarp of Q's making?" "Maybe WE were, Captain," Foye answered, working out the details as he spoke. "From what I've heard of Q, they are capable of twisting events to suit their whims. Perhaps Q was only interested in tormenting the bridge crew. Don't forget Commander Keilah, here. She is evidence that what we experienced was all too real." "It WAS real." Kukola announced, brushing delicate fingers across her forehead. "I sense your concern, Captain. I am feeling fit. The reason for my detachment is I have been in contact with Bonnie." "Lieutenant Holmyard? Where is she?" Moudy released an inner tension at the knowledge that the counselor was unhurt. He couldn't bear to ever see this woman, special to his heart, injured. He hoped, though, that Kukola would interpret his concern for her as concern for the missing conn officer. What Kukola sensed and interpreted she kept to herself, but, to answer the captain's question about Holmyard, the counselor crossed up to the bridge information stations. There she worked at the panel to call up an entry from Starfleet archives. "This is When Lieutenant Holmyard was," she announced as Moudy and Foye joined her at the station. They could only stare in growing amazement at the readout. It challenged credulity to believe, yet made the agency of their escape from Q and their warp all too obvious. MEMORY PRIME DATANET 3/6703.12 STARFLEET OFFICER'S BIOFILE PAGE 1 OF 2 NAME: HOLMYARD, BONNIE SERVICE NUMBER: AZ523-2871 BIOGRAPHICAL DATA PLANET OF ORIGIN: TERRA ( SOL III ) PLACE OF BIRTH: SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA, USA, NA DATE OF BIRTH: 2/6001.20 FAMILY- FATHER: UNIDENTIFIED MOTHER: CYNTHIA SIBLINGS: NONE SPOUSE: NONE CHILDREN: NONE EDUCATION PRIMARY/SECONDARY SCHOOLS: 2/6509 PRIMARY: PVT TUTOR, SAN FRANCISCO, CA, USA, NA 2/7309 SECONDARY: PVT TUTOR, SAN FRANCISCO, CA, USA, NA COLLEGES/UNIVERSITIES: 2/7909 VULCAN ACADEMY OF SCIENCES, SHIKAHR, VULCAN PSI RATING: 98.99 [* FIRST HUMAN TO ACCOMPLISH VULCAN MIND MELD *] 2/8109 STARFLEET ACADEMY, SAN FRANCISCO, CA, USA, NA CLASS #126 AREAS OF CONCENTRATION: COMMUNICATIONS TECHNOLOGY/COMMAND TACTICS KOBAYASHI MARU RATING: 97.9 MERITS: 130; DEMERITS 1 LANGUAGES: ENGLISH, SPANISH, RUSSIAN, FRENCH, ARABIAN, CHINESE, JAPANESE, GALACTA, VULCAN, TLHINGANAAS, ANDORIAN, MEDUSAN, RIHAN, DELTAN, TELLARITE SERVICE DATA ASSIGNMENTS STARDATE RANK VESSEL POSITION ------------------------------------------------------------ 2/8109 MIDSHIPMAN STARFLEET ACADEMY COMM CADET 2/8506 ENSIGN USS SKYLARK NCC 2530 COM 1ST CL 2/8704 LIEUTENANT USS ALASKA NCC 3400 COMM OFFCR 2/8910 LT COMMANDER USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 COMM OFFCR 2/9410 COMMANDER USS ENTERPRISE NCC 1701B EXEC OFFCR 3/0001 CAPTAIN USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 CMDG OFFCR 3/0706 REMAINING FILE ENTRIES RESTRICTED BY STARFLEET INTELLIGENCE FOR THE EYES OF COMMANDER STARFLEET AND STARFLEET INTELLIGENCE OPERATIVES ONLY. DISCLOSURE TO UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL WILL BE CONSIDERED A VIOLATION OF STARFLEET/UFP ANTI- ESPIONAGE LAWS AND REGULATIONS. MEMORY PRIME DATANET 3/6703.12 STARFLEET OFFICER'S BIOFILE PAGE 2 OF 2 AWARDS AND COMMENDATIONS FEDERATION SERVICE MEDAL STARFLEET MEDAL OF VALOR VULCAN ORDER OF HONOR VULCAN ORDER OF SUREK VULCAN ORDER OF DISTINCTION ANASTAS MEDAL OF ACHIEVEMENT CITATION OF CONSPICUOUS GALLANTRY SHUVALIS DIAMOND OF RECOGNITION ANDORIAN BATTLE STAR STARFLEET SERVICE NOVA CONDEMNATIONS NONE GENERAL SECURITY CLEARANCE: ALPHA ALPHA ONE END OF DATA END OF FILE "She disobeyed a direct order!" Moudy fumed. "She made some sort of deal with Q..." "...and saved our necks," Foye clarified. "And from the looks of things didn't do too bad for herself there in the past." "I can't believe this either," Moudy said. "Someone doctored Starfleet records to hide Holmyard's origins." "I can understand that," Foye said. "They had to preserve the Prime Directive and keep anyone from finding out when Holmyard came from." "That was easy enough to accomplish," Moudy said. "Look at the date when her file is restricted. Admiral George was Commander Starfleet right about then." "No deceased date recorded for her," Kukola pointed out, "and... no retirement date either." "Then, Holmyard could very well still be alive in this time," Moudy realized. "If I ever meet up with her again, she'll have a lot of explaining to do." "Captain, if you ever meet her again," Foye said with a slight grin, "she may very well be an Admiral, maybe even Commander Starfleet herself. Speaking of explanations, you told the Commodore you had met him before. I'd like to know when." "I was the quality assurance supervisor during the construction and testing of the warp drive for Enterprise 1701D," Moudy revealed. "Retired Admiral George was called out of retirement to chair the Galaxy class design committee. When he came to inspect the construction once, I was privileged to guide the tour. If you have further questions they'll have to wait. We need to recoup, regroup and recover. We still have to reach Wolf Three Five Nine to rendezvous with Admiral Hansen." Sonuk, Excel's Vulcan chief medical officer, emerged from the upper turbo with driven purpose, but not haste. "I have arrived, Captain. What has happened here to require my presence?" Moudy pointed to the three stricken bridge officers. "They've had a rough day, Doctor." He turned to scan the incredible file on one very irascible Starfleet officer. "And I could use a couple of aspirin myself right about now." "You'll need more than aspirin when we reach Wolf Three Five Nine, Captain," Foye said. "At least after tangling with what Q threw at us we're more than primed to confront the Borg." ***** TO BE CONTINUED... TSAO! -- "I lift my glass to the Awful Truth, which you can't reveal to the Ears of Youth, except to say it isn't worth a dime." Leonard Cohen ar153@Freenet.carleton.ca (Bonnie Q Holmyard) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Path: tivoli.tivoli.com!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!cs.utexas.edu!convex!convex!arco!news.utdallas.edu!corpgate!bcarh8ac.bnr.ca!bcarh189.bnr.ca!nott!cunews!freenet.carleton.ca!FreeNet.Carleton.CA!ar153 From: ar153@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Bonnie Holmyard) Subject: USS EXCALIBUR NCC 2004 - Part VIII (End) Message-ID: Sender: news@freenet.carleton.ca (Usenet News Admin) Organization: The National Capital FreeNet, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada Date: Thu, 6 Oct 1994 14:42:51 GMT Lines: 353 Concluding is... Copywrited 1992 by George & Holmyard WE'VE GOT TO MEET STOPPING LIKE THIS PART VIII RECAPPING: "She disobeyed a direct order!" Moudy fumed. "She made some sort of deal with Q..." "...and saved our necks," Foye clarified. "And from the looks of things didn't do too bad for herself there in the past." ***** COUNSELOR! Holmyard projected. LINDA, CAN YOU HEAR ME? She saw Kukola's expression go blank. Bonnie?! I'M TRAPPED IN THE PAST, LINDA. Q HAS CONTROL OF MY DESTIN... "You deceive me!" Q bellowed. "I offer you this chance to see your comrades one last time as you wanted. I want only your love and you deceive me!" Events on Excel's bridge whizzed kaleidoscopically past. "...isn't that one of commodore george's crew... it was real... she disobeyed a direct order... didn't do too bad for herself there in the past... at least after tangling with what q threw at us we're more than primed to confront the borg..." Reality and Excel's bridge then went spinning out of control. Holmyard found herself pitched into a dizzying, disorienting race with her thoughts, and Q's. I'M... I... TRAPPED... want... IN... only... THE... your... PAST... love... I'M... I... TRAPPED... want... "Lieutenant Holmyard!" I'M TRAPPED IN THE PAST. "Lieutenant..." I want only your love. "...Holmyard!" "Q?" "Holmyard!" She opened her eyes. Commodore George stood before her, Commanders Blasberg and Titus, Doctor Saalk behind him. In their eyes, even the first officer's, Holmyard read concern for her. "Lieutenant, are you all right?" Holmyard almost laughed aloud. All right?! She was far from all right. She was caught in a ludicrous and unending circle, her own personal Mobius Loop, a loop that ensnared her awareness and that of Q's ...wait a minute... Q? ... Q! ... Q? ... Q? ... Q! Was the wild frenzy truly over? "Lieutenant?" George questioned again. "I'm as all right as I'll ever be, Commodore." "And Q?" "Gone." ***** "I would like to take this opportunity to remind you all of your oath to uphold the Prime Directive." George made a special effort to meet gazes with each officer present on the bridge; Makofsky at the science station, Riley at engineering, Gelf at weapons, Kyhl at helm, Thornburg at navigation. He lingered on Titus's eyes, also present, knowing her talents would be instrumental in his plans; and Saalk, who met the commodore's gaze as only a Vulcan could. George passed an unspoken apology to Blasberg via the visual rapport, not entirely amazed at what he'd learned about the first officer's future from the meld with Holmyard. And then he looked at her, turning an inward eye to his thoughts. 'Are you still in there?' A whisper replied, 'Just the barest of bondings, sir.' George shook his head to return his attention to the here and now. "Bridge crew of USS Excalibur, I introduce to you Lieutenant Bonnie Holmyard, exile from the twenty-fourth century." "What?" "How?" "Why?" "WHEN?!?!" "The Prime Directive prohibits me from answering further questions," George overrode the multiple inquiries. "I can tell you that Lieutenant Commander Keilah and Lieutenant Holmyard have exchanged places in time, permanently as far as I can tell." "Very clever, Commodore," Blasberg said. "You've told us just enough to secure our confidence and silence, but not enough to satisfy our respective curiosities." "Then we have a problem," Riley spoke up. "We can't let on to anyone extrinsic to this bridge at this moment who Holmyard is or when she came from." "Commodore, what about me?" Holmyard had to ask. "Where do I go? Where do I fit in? Where do I belong?" George didn't need to be empathic to read the despair Holmyard was fighting to suppress. "To begin with, Bonnie, I have just made you a part of us and our secret. And, if all are agreeable, I intend to make you a full member of this crew, a replacement for Keilah whom we've lost." "But we can't just sign her up as if she just popped into existence," Makofsky said. "In this time, her past, she has no history, no beginning..." "Unless we create one for her," Gelf said, realizing why the ship's records officer was present. She was to be made an accomplice in the knowledge of Holmyard's origins. "Alter Starfleet records?!" Titus asked/exclaimed, simultaneously deducing the logical if unethical course placed purposefully in her path. "I'm not sure I can do that, Commodore." "Commander Titus," George said, "Debbie," pause, "you are THE renowned miracle-worker with records. I suggest we tell the truth as much as possible, and just alter the dates a little." "But it'll be too easy to verify Holmyard's files as false," Makofsky said. "One quick computer check and she's history... well... you know what I mean." "I can format her records to emulate a computer virus," Titus said, rapidly conceiving of the innovation. "It will appear when a request for Holmyard's files is detected, display the file, then erase itself when the request clears the queue. I can piggyback it into our next download to a starbase mainframe. It will spread throughout the Memory Prime Datanet through routine channels completely undetected." Relief engulfed Holmyard. Once again the Human Equation had triumphed over Q's designs. "I can't believe you'd do all this for me." "And for the Federation," George added. "To uphold the Prime Directive we can't permit the real truth about you to be commonly known. You are from our future. For us to develop normally as we should,' he just stopped himself from glancing at Blasberg, "you must keep that knowledge to yourself, just as we must keep knowledge of you to ourselves." "Turn her over or interfere with our development," Blasberg mused. "I guess we'll have to accept the lesser of two evils and keep her." "With all due respect, Number One," Holmyard said, "and for now I'm not sure how much respect you're due, but there is evil and then there is Evil. Believe me, I'm about all the evil you'll ever want to handle." THE END ...OR NOT THE END," Q smiled at their bon mot, THAT IS THE QUESTION... ...OR NOT THE QUESTION, Q. Q! HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN INTERLOPING?!" LONG ENOUGH, Q. HAVE YOU BEEN PLAYING WITH LESSER SPECIES AGAIN? THAT IS THE QUESTION. Q grinned wider. GUILTY. BUT UNREPENTANT. Q sighed. ONE OF THESE TIMES YOUR LESSER SPECIES TANGLES ARE GOING TO SURPRISE YOU AND YOU'LL GET STUNG BUT GOOD. Q winced as Bonnie's essence throbbed in his awareness. TOO LATE, Q. I MUST CONFESS I'M TERMINALLY STUNG ALREADY. THAT SHOULD TEACH YOU A LESSON, BUT WE DOUBT IT WILL. YOU KNOW ME TOO WELL, Q. THE CURSE OF BEING OMNISCIENT. EXCEPT, WE SENSE A QUESTION IN YOU WE CAN'T FATHOM AN ANSWER TO. REALLY, Q? WHICH QUESTION WOULD THAT BE? WHAT DO YOU GET WHEN YOU CROSS A BRIDGE WITH A STARSHIP? Q grinned deviously and replied, WHY, THE OTHER SIDE, OF COURSE. YOU SEEM AMUSED BY THAT ANSWER. IT IS A JOKE. A JOKE? Q, YOU ALMOST SEEM HUMAN YOURSELF WHEN YOU THINK LIKE THAT. Bonnie, my love, see what you've done to me? IT MAY VERY WELL BE THAT HUMANS ARE MORE LIKE THE Q CONTINUUM THAN WE FIRST BELIEVED, Q. ***** And the Adventure Continues... George/Holmyard out ***** TSAO! -- "I lift my glass to the Awful Truth, which you can't reveal to the Ears of Youth, except to say it isn't worth a dime." Leonard Cohen ar153@Freenet.carleton.ca (Bonnie Q Holmyard)